


skyheart (components of heaven)

by SenjuMizusaya



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Adult Arcobaleno, Alternate Universe, Dubious Morality, F/F, F/M, Female Sawada Tsunayoshi, Fluff, Growing Up, High School, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Mild Sexual Content, Organized Crime, Reverse Harem, Romance, Sawada Iemitsu's A+ Parenting, Slightly aged-up characters, Tsuna is Not Dame, everything is explained in due time, plot build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-08-09 02:16:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16441103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenjuMizusaya/pseuds/SenjuMizusaya
Summary: (Fem!Tsuna)Mistakenly presumed not to have inherited the Flames, Tsuna grows up in the Tokyo of a rough-edged, sharp-angled world without mafia intervention at the age of thirteen, and Vongola history is rewritten.(Tsuna knows something is very, very wrong with her and her friends, because nobody should have fire tingling beneath their skin.)





	1. Before the Precipice

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own KHR!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, another genderbender fic: surpriiiise^^  
> And, yes, I took away Namimori from Hibari, he grew up in Tokyo instead: thus I gave him a district to fight for, which might just be a bad idea. Also, I think I've planned it okay enough to be able to address plenty of questions, but some things might not correlate to canon at all, that's why it's called a fan fiction. If anybody has questions, please ask me, though there are some questions which can only be answered by spoilers- and therefore not answered at all. 
> 
> Long story short, this _very_ AU. I don't think I could classify it easily though. Includes (but not limited to): female tsuna, adult arcobaleno, disturbing themes to those looking for a lighthearted fic like my other KHR fic (oops), high school setting, dubious researching, sort-of dystopian qualities, crime- maybe not _Durarara!_ material in terms of illegality, but still.  
>  This fic retains the concept of Dying Will Flames, mafia, the Vongola as creme de la creme of crime syndicates, and, of course, the characters. 
> 
> Not as dark as it seems, I promise!
> 
>  
> 
> *prologue/beginning starring Nana, then jumps into the story for real*

Sawada Nana had arranged herself an evenly paced, consistent schedule. Tuesdays were the calmest, though not her favorite, for the one most notable downsides of living on the edge of the lively, entertainment-heavy Roppongi district within Minato, Tokyo, was the traffic. Luckily, however, most of the driving was to be done during the afternoon. The mornings were always a hassle, but luckily the elementary school could be easily reached through smaller streets known more by locals than all the drivers-through, and took only fifteen minutes to reach. Roppongi High was further away, but Tsuna usually took the subway to and fro, saving Nana time she wouldn't have minded spending on her daughter. On Tuesdays, however, it had been agreed that the adolescent needed picking up: classes finished particularly late that day and the subway schedule didn't fit with the weekly gym session set between four and five-thirty o'clock. Were Tsuna to take the sub home, she would not have time for an early dinner, and Nana did not trust cheap buy-as-you-go sandwiches on a regular level. Once every now and then was no problem, but Nana would not be incorporating greasy old sandwiches into her daughter's schedule, especially not just before a training session. It had already taken so much coaxing to get her daughter to attend at all: Tsuna was not one for voluntary workouts. 

Nana arrived outside the elementary two minutes past three, cramming her car into a small space left open along the street. I-Pin and Lambo were already on their way towards the gate, a rush to their little steps as they scurried across the black tarmac of the school grounds. Nana was of the opinion there should be more grass in the school, but she supposed she couldn't be picky: after all, they _had_  planted trees and bushes wherever possible. I-Pin waved, all cheer. The mother smiled, nostalgia swelling inside: all children at school, now. Her two youngest (though adopted) had just started their first grade, their backpacks too large for them and eyes sunny-bright even if their steps were more dragging than before: the two seven year olds were, understandably, tired after a long day. 

"How was school?" Nana asked, an inquisitive chirp, craning her neck to look over her shoulder as the two young children clambered inside. Both shared the same dark raven hair, but any similarities ended there. While Lambo had grassy green eyes, curly locks and a constellation of freckles dusting his nose, often wearing a cow-print jacket and a pair of horns, I-Pin tamed her inky tresses into schoolgirl braids behind her ears, her eyes the color of cedar wood, darkly lashed and slanted, face no longer as oval as it had been two years ago. She always wore red or white, preferably both, and while she easily blushed, only Lambo failed to tease a reaction even remotely close to flustered from her. On the contrary, she was comfortable enough around her brother-in-all-but-blood to reveal her explosive temperament and proneness to chiding. 

"It was great," answered I-Pin with a smile further rounding the apples of her cheeks. "Okumura-sensei is much nicer than Tsuna-onee-san had said." 

"Yeah! Tsuna-nee said Okumura was scary and mean!" Lambo agreed loudly, belatedly buckling up after I-Pin pinched his hand with a meaningful look. Nana smiled, once again, at the sight of them safe in the backseat of her car, a little navy Honda she should probably replace with one more fit for her family. She caught a glimpse of Fuuta, already in the last year of elementary, hurrying out of the school building, his backpack more proportionate and a friend waving goodbye, a gesture he hastily returned with a smile crinkling his soft brown eyes. 

"So Okumura-sensei was fine in the end?" She checked with a soft twinkle igniting in the browns of her eyes, turning the key and feeling the engine purr to life beneath her feet. 

"I guess, but he looks weird- you should see his glasses, they're green rimmed!" Lambo exclaimed, having learned yesterday what the rim of the glasses were. "But he explains kanji okay-" 

"He's nice enough," I-Pin butted in with a small smile before her friend could start rambling. Fuuta arrived, slightly breathless and the unusually chilly April breeze nipping his cheeks into a rosy pink, slipping into the seat next to his youngest sister. 

"How about you, Fuuta-chan?" Nana asked, slowly backing out of her parking slot with careful concentration. She heard the click of the seatbelt behind her, followed by the rustle of movement as they all adjusted- the backseat now cramped with her three adopted children. The brunette mother made a mental note to look into the car issue later that evening, once her two youngest were safe in bed and she had more undisturbed time at her disposal. "How was your day?" 

"My day was good," he replied, leaning against the window as he relaxed back, adjusting the strap not to make it dig into his shoulder, forcing his schoolbag down into the cramped space at his feet. "One of the best so far, this year. Second school day is still top of the list, however." 

"What made today so special?" She asked as she slowed down to halt in front of a glaring red light, daring a glance in the rear view mirror. He truly did look tired, her inner mother-instinct pointed out, but there was also an eager contentment about him. Out of all three adoptive children, only Fuuta shared even one trait with her: the deep brown eyes. Otherwise, his hair was a shade much too light, almost the color of dust, and face too wide around the cheeks and future jawline. 

"The bento was amazing, for starters," he began, at which Nana beamed and felt pleasantly fuzzy inside while he paused to allow his two younger siblings to eagerly vocalize their agreement before continuing: "But I really do like geo, Japanese and maths, and we had all three subjects today. And we didn't have PE- it's definitely on the bottom of my ranking in my favorite subjects."

Nana laughed, a chiming sound which had drawn Iemitsu's attention seventeen years ago. "Together with Tsu-chan's ranking, then?" 

Fuuta smiled back, sweet and dimpled, in the mirror: "Yes, exactly like Tsuna-nee." 

Nana loved her children, but if she had to make a list of their best traits, it was that they were all honest: they could tell her anything, Nana knew, for she was a good confidante. She knew for a fact her children trusted her as well, for whenever there was a problem or struggle, she was informed, such as when Tsuna had confessed she was failing maths, chemistry, physics and geography. PE had already been discussed. They'd solved the problem with maturity: Tsuna had been eager to fix it, apparently, because she had drafted a list of friends who could help her, while Nana arranged for the weekly gym session to put some sort of muscle unto her daughter's frame. 

She was still very proud of how efficiently that had been handled, because she'd been told plenty of times she was neither practical nor methodical. The memory made her square her shoulders as she drove on, speeding up after rounding a corner. I-Pin and Lambo started bickering in the backseat. 

Lambo said: "You've gotta move, I-chan!" 

"It's unfair," argued I-Pin, "my middle seat is smaller than yours." 

"No, the line right here is the limit- here's my seat and here's yours!" Lambo threw back vehemently, proof of him growing up being that his voice had yet to start quivering even as I-Pin didn't budge no matter how he pushed. 

Nana sighed fondly while Fuuta closed his eyes and seemed to try to catch some rest against the window, cheek plastered against the cold surface. She'd definitely have to look into selling their blue little Honda and buy a bigger one: she felt blessed that the size of her car was the biggest trouble she was faced with. After all, there were many who had it far worse than they did. She put the thought out of her mind: there was no use in going down such trains of thought.

Because she'd picked up get three adoptees first, Nana was one of the last to turn into the street outside the high school, most cars driving away from the large buildings. The school complex was of the older kind built before her own time, with soft cream walls, square windows, everything low, simple and robust. It was a neighborhood clashing with the rest of the city, where buildings stood tall and imposing, made up of dark shiny grays or sooty blacks with a multitude of windows from the third floor and upwards, shining out into the night like cat's eyes, tinted green or yellow, while Roppongi's lower levels consisted of shops with thicker, smaller windows and smudged facades, neon lights flickering into existence once the sun set, bright and high shades of mostly pink, yellow and green in the wider roads but gleaming red, blue, violet, orange the narrower the street, sometimes even in alleyways wherein no cars could access. Early motorcycles would purr and groan into life around the time those streets were cast in a mysterious cold, neon sheen.

She never went there. It felt like a mature, decent decision. She felt not a hint curiosity, as was only proper and good, and therefore rarely thought of it. It wasn't until the high school had sent a letter warning all parents that it was at the age of fifteen-sixteen students stared snooping around there, that she'd spared it more than a passing reflection. But luckily, her Tsuna would never do that: she'd been blessed with the most sensible, careful teenager on earth. 

Even if she was unable to figure out which one of her daughter's friends was her boyfriend, but she did not pry: Tsuna would tell her in due time once she was comfortable with it, and all the while Nana would wait patiently and say nothing about her daughter's often well-hidden little dark mars of hickeys along her neck. Nana had been smothered by her own mother when it came to boyfriends, restricted and yanked at, steered here and there with a bruising grip on her shoulder, and therefore she was of the opinion Tsuna should be allowed to experience it all naturally, without any overbearing supervision or crude sneers of disapproval sent her way. 

Nana was inflexible when it came to that, for sometimes she still thought she felt her own mother's hand come to rest against her shoulder, thin and hard and cold like bones, a whisper in the lurking dark of night:  _See, what came of you because you didn't heed my warnings? Your husband is never home._

Nana slowly pulled up to halt outside the high school. Through the large opening left bare because of the wide open gates, she had a good view of the inner schoolyard. There was a little grass field there, lining the sides of the asphalt. She could glimpse parts of a tree cluster's crooked canopies. There weren't many students left, only a handful milling about inside and a fair few walking down the road towards the bikes, bus stop or entrance to the underground, most in duos or trios.

The by far largest group stood in partial obscurity beneath the shade of the reaching, greedy, blooming branches of a sakura tree, only dotted pink and white with cotton blossoms at the lower branches and otherwise green as lush since most petals had already been tugged from the branches. Nana recognized most of them. There, next to the bench, was her own daughter's pale profile, her golden brown hair mussed up and tangling just above her shoulders. Next to her, sitting atop the bench's armrest, was the tall baseball player with the short black hair: Yamamoto Takeshi. Next to him sat the girl with the lively brown eyes and high ponytail, Miura Haru, who could be on the phone with Tsuna for hours and hours. Standing in front of Tsuna, making it a half-circle, was the silver-haired smoker whom Nana had never seen wearing his uniform as it should, Gokudera Hayato. The Sawada mother knew these to be her daughter's three best friends, although Tsuna herself had never said so, but Nana had drawn her conclusions: it was these three whom were visiting most often. 

Three others seemed to just have left the group: Nana recognized the tall, white-topped young man as Sasagawa Ryouhei, together with his sweet younger sister Kyouko who was in Tsuna's year, as well as the mature-beyond-her-years Kurokawa Hana. She waved at them as they passed, they waved back. 

"Good day, Nana-kaa-san," greeted Sasagawa Kyouko with a bashful little grin making her wide, lime shaded eyes twinkle. "Tsuna-chan's coming in a moment, I think- though I can go and ask for her to come now?" She offered earnestly. 

"Oh, thank you, but there's no need," Nana answered, and with a friendly nod the trio went on. She tried to catch Tsuna's gaze, but her daughter's amber eyes rested firmly on Gokudera's absently scowling, snowy face as he talked, gesturing with small, short, sharp movements whenever he made a point. Yamamoto answered, and honey eyes followed. The raven talked with a small smile, much more relaxed than his standing counterpart. It only took a few moments, for once facing Yamamoto she was automatically turned towards the gate, but then Tsuna's warm gaze crossed her mother's and she waved. 

Nana started the engine again while her daughter bid her friends farewell. Not even a minute later, Tsuna reached the car and slipped into the seat next to her mother, struggling her satchel into the space between her feet. Nana had wanted her daughter to wear Mary Janes to the school uniform. Tsuna had opted for a dusty gray, bastardized version of Mary Janes. Her daughter had a tendency of going for what was not quite defined. Nana wondered if Tsuna had a weakness for the gray zones in the world, and figured it was very possible: the young student had clothes in her wardrobe that were neither a sweater nor a tunic, loved going out although only with a select few and never went to the popular hangouts- unless a forgotten, dimly lit cafe with 1920s-inspired furnishing counted, or the small park behind zoo, or the zone just a few stops away where most houses stood empty as it had used to be an industrial district. Ever since she'd been small, even favorite colors had been specific and unconventional: at six, it had been turquoise, but not just any turquoise, but the exact one from a postcard depicting the Mediterranean, at eight it had been the bright yellow of a marigold, at thirteen it had become a dark magenta and now, at sixteen, she seemed to be balancing between fiery orange and a much more neutral creamy beige. 

"How was your day-" Nana started, and although it was the question most often posed the last twenty minutes, she remained genuinely curious. How was her darling daughter? Had her day been as good as her younger three's? 

"It was okay," Tsuna answered with a shrug, pale pink lips stretching into a small grin soft at the corners, although the honey eyes were keen, "but how was yours? You looked very tired this morning." 

"Me? Oh, I was quite fine," she laughed, passing the school. The sun still stood high, but it had gained a golden tint from its previous spring-white as afternoon rolled in. "Was up a little late yesterday," she confessed, no longer daring to drag her eyes of the road: she'd always been a careful driver, and doubted it would ever change. "What did you do today-" 

"Lots of stuff," Tsuna answered rather quickly, grin widening as she slumped back into her seat, continuing without missing a beat: "Haru-chan and I found a new room toady, it's this forgotten little storage room behind the gym. Never thought a school could have so many spare chairs. Oh, and Hibari-san gave me a detention- I'll have to stay longer at school next Friday... I hadn't even known it was a rule to button your shirt correctly, I hadn't even noticed that the buttons were all one hole up! If I'd worn my sweater during the break, nobody would have noticed. And Gokudera-kun  _never_ gets a detention whenever he wears his open over a shirt." 

"But Tsu-chan," Nana couldn't help but to giggle, "how can you miss the fact that your uniform is buttoned wrong?" 

"Dunno, but I missed it," Tsuna answered with a light shrug, a sheepish grin coloring her words. Nana momentarily took a risk, daring a glance at her daughter: she wore the school's sailor pullover over the white button-up now, although the green little ribbon was only messily tied. Nana thought it was a very nice uniform, themed a forest green and tawny tan; it suited the younger brunette very well. 

Then, as they took a turn to the left, Nana's face fell, the epitome of crestfallen: Friday detentions always resulted in Tsuna having to take the bus instead of the sub and coming home a little past six o'clock in the evening. "Oh, but I'd planned for a dinner with all of us together! By the time you'll get home, Lambo and I-Pin will have to go to bed only an hour later!" 

"We can stay up later on Friday!" Lambo was quick to assure. "We can stay up _real_ late! Can't we can't we can't we, I-Pin?" But I-Pin didn't have the chance to answer before Lambo had another, much more pressing, realization: "Wait, hold on- why does Tsuna-nee get to call shot gun? She always gets that seat!" 

Nana's heart twanged like an elastic pulled taut. Of course it was unfair, but it correlated to the size of the car: the three in the backseat were all children -narrow of hip- and Tsuna had inherited more traits from her Italian grandmother instead of Nana in terms of curves. It would only get even more cramped were she to squiggle in there. "Oh, Lambo-chan," she started, "you can sit next to me the next time!" 

Instantly, she felt bad: what if the next time Lambo was in the car with her, it was all of the family together? Then she could sag with relief, smiling at her own forgetfulness: she would be going shopping later, and Lambo always wanted to come with her when she did. Fuuta and Tsuna would be minding their own- it would only be Nana and her two little babies. 

Tsuna spent the entire ride staring at the nimble hands clasped in her lap. 

Nana thought of Iemitsu, wondering when he'd be coming home the next time. It had been three years since the last time, three whole years, and he'd only stayed for a weekend. There had been an instant, perhaps a decade ago, during which she'd almost dared to suspect he was involved in a crime, but then she'd come to her senses and realized what was really going on. Of course she knew his salary was too great for a construction worker, but she was proud to have figured it out: he worked with  _overseeing_ constructions for the state, sworn to secrecy as he'd likely ended up within a branch of national defense or the likes. 

She sighed from deep in her stomach, leadlike, and shook her dark brown head, hoping she'd be home in time to take the bread out of the oven. She hadn't counted on there being that much traffic on a Tuesday afternoon. 

 

* * *

 

 _Sawada Setsuna is normal_ , Tsuna thought, inhaling slowly and deliberately, holding her breath for a moment, steadying her heartbeat. She met her reflection's golden brown stare, muscles pulling and twisting soft pink lips into a semblance of a smile.  _Sawada Setsuna is a slice of life, a clumsy and everyday girl whose biggest problem is passing the school year_. 

She nodded to herself, smile shining a little more real, a little more solid. The pep-talk done with, she slipped out of the gym's surprisingly clean toilets, the door swinging shut behind her. She looked up and her breath almost caught in her throat, an electric current shocking her back into attention: " _Hiiiie_! Haru-chan, don't scare me like that!" 

The other girl stood up straight, having leant against the wall whilst waiting for the shorter, more light of hair girl out of the two. She smirked kindly, small and toothy, flicking her dark, cocoa-brown ponytail over her shoulder. Even though the tall self-proclaimed Researcher wore only a faded gray t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, it was apparent how svelte and long of legs she was. Tsuna knew Haru knew that, too. Haru was always aware of when she looked attractive, and that tended to be most of the time.

"Tsuna-chan," greeted Haru, hand on the slight curve of her hip and eyes alight with the stolen wink of a star, "I thought I'd keep you company today- it's been so long since it was only the two of us." 

"That's- actually really nice," Tsuna answered after a moment of recovering, pulling at her gray tank top to make it sit more snugly at her waist. She was by no means a self-conscious person about appearance, but next to Haru anybody would feel like the goose next to the swan. "Wait- hold on, we spent the entire Saturday afternoon together! Without Gokudera-kun or Yamamoto-kun!" 

"But that doesn't count," Haru laughed as they walked into the main room. "That was work- I got really good on my chemistry test, by the way." 

"Ha ha," she uttered blearily, "I scraped by with fifty-one percent." 

"Then spending the entire evening on it payed off!" The chemist chimed. "Oh, and I made the cutest outfit for you- dunno if you're ever going to use it, but if you go to the history eve you can wear this amazing dress I designed- Hahi! Is that not Kusakabe-senpai of the DC? Let's go somewhere else." 

It was widely known that despite being a model student -literally, sometimes- Miura Haru hated the Disciplinary Committee, if only because she was terrified of Hibari Kyouya, its president. And whenever Haru was scared of somebody, she ended up boosting her courage with anger. Kusakabe, as vice-president, was in the unfortunate top ten of her cold-shoulder list. Tsuna had to agree the DC scared her, but somewhere along the last two years, a sort of more bearable respect instead of terror had bloomed for the Demon Prefect and his unofficial yakuza-in-making. It wasn't like she had a choice but to grow accustomed to him, as he'd somehow wound up in the ever-expanding equation tearing at her life. 

The gym was a small one located relatively near Roppongi High, and the most common place for the students to try to stay in shape since the PE teachers did not always keep up to standard during lessons but had a tendency to fail everybody during their tests. Tsuna recognized some other faces. There was the captain of the volleyball team, and in the adjoint room filled with bikes and treadmills she was fairly certain it was the school's female kickboxing champion zoning out in a leisured jog. Tsuna had always felt out of place in the gym, but the thought of a disappointed Nana always motivated her to go there. 

"Let's start here," Tsuna sighed, reaching the first treadmill a few paces away from the oblivious, earphone-plugged athlete. Obviously, it turned out Haru's legs weren't only for show, and therefore not even seven minutes later Tsuna found herself slumping on the bench next to the cheerily running brunette, heart beating bruises onto the insides of her ribs. Finally, once her throat no longer burned with icy claws and lungs stopped yearning for air while her thighs recovered from having burned with acids, "This is so unfair!" 

"If you'd keep on running you might just build up endurance," came the laughing reply, but the tall girl, too, sounded strained by then and was more than happy to stop and move on. "So, I've been thinking... I mean, about the, erm, the _you knows_ ," Haru glanced around her, a hasty sweep of sharpened eyes. "They may be shaped like flames, but..."

The _you know whats_. The dagger driving deeper and feeling into her, twisting and searing. Why had the Flames suddenly come over her? Why, _why_? Could they not have left her alone, left her to her life, left her and her friends to go along their business without settling in their veins? Keeping the secret from the rest of the world burned guilt into the back of her tongue and uncertainty into her spine, harsh and deeply rooted: what if somebody found out? 

"No no no no!" Tsuna protested, covering her ears and shaking her head, making her rare ponytail swing and slap her friend. "Tuesdays are my day off- and I'm already spending it in the gym, isn't it enough?" 

"No procrastination allowed," answered the cosplay expert tartly, "and don't give me that look- Gokudera may melt at a bat of your lashes, but I'm iron." 

"Cold and heartless," wept the more voluptuous of the two, sobering with a sniff, "and it's not procrastination, because there's no deadline and taking a break is good for my health. My mental and emotional one, at least, because my legs are dying." 

"Don't change the subject, I've got a really good theory," Haru defended valiantly, then grabbed her friend's elbow, forcing her to meet a dead serious stare which seemed almost mahogany as the bloody red neon text from the shop on other side of the street flickered into light.

Tsuna squirmed for a moment, but then sighed, however reluctantly: "That's why you came here in the first place, isn't it?" 

"Hahi- no, not at all! I was saving it for later but you deserve to know now!" Haru protested, standing straight. The Sawada missed the times when she'd been the taller one, but alas the darker haired girl had experienced a belated growth spurt at fourteen and shot up like a poplar, now reaching almost half a head taller. "It's part of my theory- yours seem different, even more different from the others, more fundamentally at least, you're in the center somehow-"

Tsuna slapped a hand over her friend's mouth before she could go and spill her beans: "Not-so-loud-when-we're-in-the-gym," she hissed between gritted teeth, nervously glancing around her, but none had taken any notice of them. Two other students arrived, both from the basketball team, but Tsuna knew neither of them personally and they passed with nary an acknowledgment. 

"Sorry," Haru apologized once they'd reached the rowing machine. Despite it being one of the harder ones, it was also one of the few where Tsuna felt she didn't completely suck. That was a nice change. "Oh, not these!" 

"Yes these," the short adolescent answered as she maneuvered into position, then slanted a glance over her shoulder. The two newcomers were further away and in a loud conversation about women in leggings and mini skirts. Kusakabe, the volleyball captain and kickboxer were in the other room. The handful others were strangers and stared dully head. It was still early. "So, what about you trying to single me out?" 

"Well, for starters, whenever one of you does spark a Flame, it's of a different color, that was the first thing we noticed," Haru started summing up, voice hushed and strained since she was forced to use muscles she'd never trained before, "but when going through the rapid photos I took, it started to become really clear they behave differently all together. Yours is like a candle flame, but deep orange, while, let's say Yamamoto's, is more of a small body of water. Gokudera's just rages and the one time we managed to catch Lambo's on photo for closer studying, it looked more like lightning than a flame. Oh, and can't you ask Hibari to allow me to take a photo? It's impossible to make an analysis based on far-away glimpses." 

"Haaa," Tsuna hummed with a humorless shakily of her head, "he'll bite me to death, were to ask that of him."

"You'd mind that," Haru commented dryly, to which Tsuna's cheeks bloomed an off red-pink clashing horribly with the ambers of her eyes. 

"What- what is that supposed to mean? D-don't joke about things like that," she spluttered, thinking she almost preferred having Haru's original choice of topic. "So, _errrr_ , about the- Flames?" 

"Right," she nodded, smothering a smile that did not escape Tsuna, though both pretended not to notice. "Well, last time I asked you to try put it in a glass jar with a beetle in it- of course, the Flames went out as soon as they left you, but I recorded the reactions in HD- it's official, my previous hypothesis on each Flame being different in nature, coloring being only the most obvious indication, is correct. I could only test yours, Gokudera's, Yamamoto's and Sasagawa's, but Kyouko-chan and I agreed-" 

"Kyouko-chan got to see the pictures?" Tsuna burst out in a hushed gasp, for while Kyouko had been let in on the secret that there was something _wrong_ with over half of the people in her group of friends, she hadn't expected the redhead to see visual proof of it- and photos of it, at that,  _eternalized_ proof, glaring and never wavering. Kyouko was not supposed to have gotten mixed up in it all to begin with: it felt wrong to force the photos onto her like that. Yet, she'd acted no different today at school. 

"Yes, but that's not important," Haru waved off, slightly breathless. "Well, let's take Gokudera's Flames, the red one. Well, his beetle- it was rather gross, watching it on slow-motion, but it sort of... disintegrated? Was torn apart? Burned away? Well, you get the point-"

"Shh," Tsuna hushed in a frenzied panic while the kickboxing idol passed, "...yes, I totally agree, definitely the best ice cream even though its awful to _burn_ _away_ the calories later, _tears me apart_..." 

There was a pause during which both friends checked their surroundings as inconspicuously as they could manage. Haru was the first one to deem it safe: "That was laying it on a little thick, Tsuna-chan." 

"Hmm, you think?" Tsuna fretted, skittish as she breathed out, slow and calming. "Better safe than sorry, I'd say, haha... uh, yeah." 

"Point taken," Haru accepted in such a manner that Tsuna was certain it'd have been forgotten within minutes again. "Then, with Yamamoto's Flames, I'm pretty sure it fell asleep before it died- it died sort of quietly, sluggishly." 

"Now that's just sad, poor beetle," she butted in, pausing to rant properly even though she had to keep her voice down, "and Gokudera-kun's too... Wait, does this count as animal abuse? As in, have we committed a crime- one against animals, that is? Don't- don't answer the general crime question." 

"What, no," Haru started, then pondered about it, "no, I think we're fine on accounts of animal abuse. They're only insects." 

"That does not make me feel any better," Tsuna answered swiftly, appropriately horrified, but still deemed herself guilty when curiosity prevailed: "So, er, Sasagawa-kun's and my Flames?" 

"Well, his are actually a rather nice story," she perked up, eager to tell a lighter story and pausing her rowing for a well-deserved break whilst her friend reluctantly started again. "I'd thought his would be the most destructive, what with all the boxing and _enthusiasm_ , you see, so I'd given his box the sort of sick beetle, and guess what? It healed. Just like that, got back on its feet -do you call it feet?- and flew away, right towards the flower box outside the window. Of course, for all these experiments results may not be perfect, since the beetles only came close to the Flames but didn't actually get to touch them." 

"That is a nice story," Tsuna agreed after a few moments, sweat beading her forehead, covering her back in an unattractive sheen and damp between her ample breasts. "Darn it, I really hate gymming." 

"Same," Haru agreed breathily, smelling her shirt, "at least I've got a good deo." 

"Lucky you, kaa-chan insists on a bio one which doesn't smell, well, like anything," Tsuna groaned, muscles starting to burn, slow and deliberate like when she'd tried to calm herself before going to the gym. It had been a hard day, veins tingling with forcefully subdued energy all day and making her trip in the stairs because of jittery nerves instead of natural clumsiness. She'd gotten too many scares that Tuesday, starting in the morning with Lambo jumping onto her bed, continuing on when she'd dropped the razor in the shower and almost cut her ankle at a large vein, unceasing when in school and almost having a door opened in her face twice, far from done in the cafeteria where a cart from the kitchens had sped out of control and almost bulldozed two passersby but veered of to knock her away. "It kind of defeats its own purpose." 

While Haru laughed, chiming and bubbly like pearls rushing down a staircase, Tsuna remembered one Flame which had yet to be mentioned from the experiments, excluding the failed one where they'd tried to coax Lambo into summoning one though stopped when Gokudera had gotten angry enough almost to force one out of the child through putting him in immediate danger. "Ah, Haru-chan? What happened to mine?" 

She tried to remember the beetle. Had it died or lived? Then, shoulders sunk and eyes stood downcast, something slow and smirking chilling her stomach as she tried to take back the question by willpower alone. But of course it did not work, and Haru answered: "Why, don't you remember? You melted the glass of the jar right onto it."

 

* * *

 

Tsuna slipped down the stairs with a growling stomach and a rumpled pajamas which had once been a dark wine but had been faded, washed and worn enough to be rendered a dusty red instead. Her three younger siblings -for while they were adopted, she had come to consider them nothing less- were fast asleep and she could hear Nana rummaging around in her bedroom, the sound muffled by carpets and the walls separating them. 

Their apartment was on the seventh floor, and whilst it usually provided an excellent view of the city, all curtains were drawn shut to ward off the glowering lights and nightlife scenarios going on far below on the myriad of streets cutting between the tall, imposing buildings. Yet, the sounds could not be completely shut out, distant honking cars and revving motors blurring together with the hymn of indistinguishable chatters, a muted and distant beat from one club or another drumming as the baseline of the city life orchestra.

Tsuna was unable to sleep. The only source of illumination was from the small light above the kitchenette, casting a yellowed sheen over the oval dining table at the other end of the kitchen. Four years ago it had been the familiar square table, but it had been replaced by the oval one when Nana had adopted Fuuta, Lambo and I-Pin when Tsuna had been fourteen. The disappearance of the table had been more of a shock to her than the official paper one day signed, for the three children had been taken in well on beforehand already. Sometimes, Tsuna wondered if it was not all a part of a great, awful ploy. After all, what other reason could there be for her skin to buzz with Flames and all three adoptees having ties with the criminal world they'd escaped? 

She retrieved the cooling teapot and filled a mug for herself. It was the cup Gokudera had gotten her for her birthday, white covered with orange flames swirling around in a pattern almost oriental-Indian in nature. She'd always loved tea. Nana had already emptied half of the teapot herself, as she usually did whilst working (she preferred tea over coffee, something Tsuna had inherited from her), but there was enough left and it had yet to turn cold, still warm as it burned pleasantly in her mouth, down her throat, heating her from the inside out, a little speck of comfort. 

Tsuna didn't want the old navy Honda to be sold. It was very rare for her to want something to change, not counting her own abnormality- she'd be the most grateful person in the world could she go back to the normal she'd used to despise. She wished she knew what it was, why it had happened to her, why those around her turned out also to have Flames. Was it contagious, or was it like the time she'd taken a shortcut through a shadowed alley -during broad daylight, of course, for she'd been alone- and found a young girl with inky braids hair named I-Pin bleeding out with a sobbing boy curled up next to her: simply her luck?

If that were the case, Tsuna didn't like the word luck. 

But if she hadn't found them, I-Pin might not have been alive. And that was even more unbearable than housing a child who'd had ties to assassination. 

Tsuna bent her legs to curl into the wooden chair, wrapping an arm around her legs. From where she sat, she had an excellent view of the dull white fridge. It was crowded by little postcards and magnets, the wifi code scribbled onto one slip of green paper, the handy addresses to know on the next, and there, partially obscured by a decade-old postcard from Iemitsu (sent from Cairo) was a little, faded telephone number taped to the fridge. Tsuna had seen it so often she knew it by heart, could picture it with crystal clarity wherever she went. The smudged little 0, the harsh way of scribbling the 4, the slanted 8. 

It had been three years since she'd last see Iemitsu, and then he'd only stayed for two nights, but she remembered how he'd hastily left the little note with the words: " _In the worst of emergencies, if something seems really- off. Don't worry, though, the bad luck seems to have skipped my little Tuna-fish_!" 

Was this what he'd hinted at? Funny, for if it was, he should have stayed one day longer and, consequently, not had to be cryptic. Sunday afternoon he'd boarded the plane and flown off towards the distant horizon, and Monday eve Tsuna had locked herself into her room, her world askew, tilting on its axis and defying gravity, making her nauseous and light-headed until it felt as though she were drowning in a sea tearing her apart with currents. There had been a boy at the edge of the school roof -she'd barely known him, back then- his raven hair ruffled further by the wind and hazel eyes all wrong, and then Yamamoto Takeshi had stepped out into the open air and she'd flung herself after him to grab ahold of a wrist, an arm, _anything_ , but was dragged along instead. 

And plummeted to her death. 

But she had survived, a burst of orange light yanking her to a slower speed just an arm's length away from the ground, and then she'd crashed into the asphalt, Yamamoto partially atop her, a tangle two thirteen year olds who'd mysteriously cheated death but lay with tears wetting their cheeks and bruises blooming like sick flowers, not scream escaping and no air finding lungs either. By the time the ambulance arrived, Tsuna and Yamamoto were sitting upright, dazed and shell shocked and their world views diffused and shattered into razor sharp pieces, but without even as much as a cracked rib or mental trauma to speak of.

And now Tsuna was sixteen, in high school, surrounded with a tight-knit group of friends she wouldn't exchange for the world or her own life. Yamamoto had been the first, then joined by Gokudera and Haru, one an escapee from a mafia family since he'd turned eight and the other a rich girl going to a private school, then there had been the zealous Sasagawa Ryouhei together with his sweet sister Kyouko and her best friend Kurokawa Hana, deadly accurate with words and now, since perhaps a day ago, the only one in the group who had not seen visual proof of the Flames.

Two years ago, Tsuna had met the violet haired Dokuro Chrome, who would mutely sit in the back of the class in Shinjuku Junior High, who'd never spoken a word of her past yet. Yet, the moment Tsuna had asked if she wanted to come along (when, in the midst of the night in the girls' toilets in the forgotten vintage bar, it had turned out little indigo slivers would ignite at her fingertips whenever the school bully would speak too harshly, terrify her too much) she'd pulled away for what seemed like an indefinite amount of time, only to turn up at her doorsteps two weeks later, asking in such a low, breathless whisper if she could come inside that Tsuna had almost not heard her. But she had, and she'd sneaked the timid young girl, a year her junior, into her room and dragged a spare mattress inside. Nana had never known. When, a day later, the police asked if a girl named Nagi had been seen around, Tsuna answered she had seen nothing. Chrome started arriving at school from an other direction after that. 

Then there was Hibari. Tsuna would be hard pressed to give an articulate answer on when he'd come to be part of her group- for Hibari Kyouya did not belong to any group, he drifted around, free and unbridled, running the school and surrounding area with an iron fist only growing harder and more bloodied, never rusting. But he'd always been there, somehow, never growing closer or more distant, only more notable. Although, Tsuna had to admit, she still did not know if he could be counted as part of her little group. 

However, the Flames remained despite her trying to focus on the ordinary things in life, such as hating gymming or growing out of one bra or another and having odd friends, just like the little note on the fridge remained, an innocent little reminder taking space and refusing to leave, staring with unwavering certainty, smudged around the 0, sharp and slanted. 

Part of Sawada Setsuna hated Iemitsu for not being with them more often, but since he was absent more often than not, she couldn't muster enough warmth for her father to miss him more than she felt betrayed. 

She finished her tea, flicked the warm little light off, and crept up the stairs of their small apartment. She had a long day ahead, including a maths test she would be able to fret about. And there was biweekly meeting at Haru's where the friend could indulge in her research to her heart's content, trying to make sense of her insensible friends. Chrome had even promised to come, which she hadn't been able to do the last two weeks. 

 _Maybe_ , Tsuna thought to herself in the dark of her room, safe between her blankets and the sound of the busy nightlife of Tokyo buzzing outside, _I should ask about Hibari's Flames on Friday_? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah: pretty AU. And yes, Ye girls are actually doing something in this fic, because while I love KHR, I have to admit that their householding roles got on my nerves at times: even Bianchi's battle involves a "womanly duty" (food).  
> Hence fem!Tsuna and Researcher!Haru. And a Reverse Harem because obviously Tsuna wouldn't be able to pick only one of her Guardians- even if none of them know they're Guardians and are trying to figure out just what the hell this energy inside is. 
> 
> So, the three biggest questions I failed to properly address in this chapter:  
> -Reborn did not come because Iemitsu hadn't thought Tsuna had inherited any Flames (this will be delved into further, it's part of the plot, so I won't say more)  
> -The adoption: well, I think I outlined it a bit, but in this AU some nasty stuff has happened to the world and while it may not be glaringly apparent when looking out of the window, it has honed and darkened the crime world, and therefore Lambo ran away with I-Pin, meeting Fuuta along the way. I'll be coming back to this as well.  
> -Chrome: so, she has not been in a car crash but ran away from home and now happily (not really) lives in an orphanage under a fake name, and therefore has a normal stomach with everything that's supposed to be there. But Mukuro will still be coming, don't worry (or maybe you should worry). 
> 
> Finally, maybe I should mention that there won't be any bashing in this story, since I don't believe any character is solely (excuse my language) shit, but some characters may have it difficult from time to time: for example, Iemitsu may be a good CEDEF head, but he's not exactly #Father01 out there. 
> 
> Take care^^


	2. Shore of a Puddle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everybody^^ 
> 
> So, because the tags could've been endless had I added everything, here are some which weren't quite glaring enough to add:  
> -Researcher!Haru  
> -Dubious Morality  
> -Fluff  
> -Disturbing Themes  
> -Naive (smart-ish) Nana  
> -Eventual Happy Ending  
> -Comfort  
> -trashy updating schedule  
> There should be maybe twenty-five/thirty chapters to this fic, because I know I have a special way of making what should fit into one chapter turn into two. I'm working on that....

Yamamoto Takeshi liked a lot of things: he'd spent over half his life enjoying baseball, he had recently discovered the wonders of wakame which he'd decided he found gross at the age of five, loved sushi and milk, got to escape helping out in his father's sushi restaurant because Yamamoto Tsuyoshi would fret as soon as he touched even the edge of a chopstick, was rather handy with the sword and had the most interesting, endearing group of friends he'd ever been able to imagine.

He rather wished they'd once be able to play a friendly game of baseball together. 

However, even though he'd acquired a taste for life since the episode well over two years ago, sinking into a routine of taking life as it came and making the most of it, he had to admit that figuring out what the blue little Flames singing beneath his skin meant, what it entailed, why they were there, was rather important. Luckily, his didn't seem to be on the destructive end of the spectrum, like Gokudera's, but it remained a nagging little question lurking in the back of his head. Yamamoto did not like nagging little questions lurking in the back of his head. 

And therefore he was resolved to answer it, yet- 

"It feels like every time I get a step closer," Haru complained, squinting at the computer screen, "more questions arise. This has to be the most confusing thing yet." 

Chrome's indigo little flame had been tested on the beetle jar. The violet-haired middle schooler from Shinjuku had folded herself to fit into the plush armchair, arms around her legs and bag neatly resting against the side, her single large, dark amethyst eye alert as she watched Haru. The other was covered by a white eyepatch in turn hidden by right-styled bangs. Tucked into herself like that, she truly did look like the youngest in the room.  

Their makeshift group had secured the entirety of the Miura basement, cleaning it and fixing the lighting until it was like any other room in the awfully grand, spacious house- only, without windows. The walls and roof were spotless white, the furnishing lacquered but simplistic, consisting of a table with four chairs, three chintzy old armchairs and a desk which had been claimed by Haru, the three LEDs in the roof casting a clinically white sheen. There was also a metal bench pushed against one wall and a low shelf filled with five heavy, thick books (three on myths and lore, one on hell in different cultures and one on occultist theories) as well as robust safe wherein notes and photos were stored and an overgrown plant resembling a small bush placed atop the sturdy shelf. 

"We should get a bean bag," Yamamoto observed blithely, "a patterned one with many different colors, it could really brighten it up- it _is_ a little drab as it is, so much white and brown."

"That would cost money," Gokudera objected from the metal bench where he fiddled with a fuse meant for dynamite, glasses secure on, hair in a ponytail, gloves stained and an off-white lab coat making him look like a chemist. There were no explosions, there never were in that room, but little sparks ignited nonetheless as he dabbed the different little chords in different liquids to see how quickly each burned. "Dunno how much you know 'bout economy, but our finances are sorta shit since we had to cough up money for that high-def camera. For fuck's sake, you were _there_  with me when we took that shady job to be able to buy a proper set to go with it." 

"Oh, right, I remember," Yamamoto brightened, sitting straighter in the stiff wooden chair at the scrape-marred table, recalling how he'd simply had to stand guard outside a room for three hours and not let anybody in. His only company had been the furiously smoking Gokudera who'd done most of the job by scowling and scaring away anybody who might have decided they wanted to enter. Yamamoto had only had to smile at them as they passed. They'd hurried past even more then. 

"I find it an extremely good idea," Sasagawa Ryouhei objected with a sunny grin. Yamamoto was certain Ryouhei was one of the few whom had gray eyes which constantly looked warm. "It's my turn to pay, anyway, and I've got an extremely good job at the supermarket, so there's no need for you to worry, octopus head- it's at the counter." 

Gokudera did not dignify that with an answer, instead deciding for two of the liquids and starting to clean up. A slightly burned smell permeated the ever-ventilated air. Haru sighed loudly from deep in her stomach, shoulders cramped as she replayed the short slow-motion video. The beetle flickered in and out of sight before suddenly taking off with buzzing wings and smacking straight into the glass prison. "This does not make any sense! A beetle can't just exist and un-exist itself like that!" 

"So it keeps disappearing?" Ryouhei checked, to which Haru nodded without turning away form her screen, and the white-haired young man nodded, then frowned with knitted brows, shook his white-topped head, and finally sighed. "I don't get this." 

"What a surprise," snarked Gokudera from where he was packing away his set, organizing it meticulously and finally wrapping it in a soft, ratty blanket before hiding it in his faded black bag. 

"Nobody gets it yet," Tsuna informed the older boy, smiling with weary eyes, the mess of honey brown hair ruffled further with how often she'd dragged her hand through it. "Don't worry, Sasagawa-kun." 

"I'm not," he shrugged with characteristic lack of pessimism, "maybe there's just something wrong with the camera?" 

"But it's brand new," Tsuna protested, sitting up straight between Yamamoto and Ryouhei, who sprawled himself over the table, chin against the uneven wood and only eyes moving, flitting around to observe whatever moved that moment. "It can't be broken, we've had it for, maybe, two weeks?" 

"Exactly," Haru agreed slowly, nose almost brushing against the screen, pausing when the beetle faded for a split-second. "This defies all laws of science."

"I don't think a lot of science applies to this," Gokudera spoke up, having finished cleaning away his things, going to stand behind Haru for a better look at the computer. Yamamoto thought there was a lot that did not make sense, but did not comment on it. Instead, the athlete said:

"Say, Haru-chan, what do you want for your birthday?" 

"Oh- but it's sixteen days left," started the leggy brunette, "and a half." 

"And you don't give a shit, of course," was Gokudera's contribution. 

"Of course I do," Haru sat straight, unplastering her face from the screen to turn to Yamamoto, lips tweaking up at the corners. "Well, maybe an encyclopedia focusing on occultist things, if it exists." 

"It will, I'm sure," Tsuna spoke with a little laugh twinkling in her eye, leaning against Yamamoto's shoulder. Two years ago, that was how it had all started, a search of softness, comfort, human hope and presence, once it became apparent how entirely  _fucked up_  it all was. Yamamoto smiled at the memory of soft brown hair and a cute blush, his own cheeks likely not much better. A little moment of solace in a world of glass shards and shadows cast by unnatural Flames burning their own lives away from them. "There's tons of weird stuff out there." 

"Oh, that's right," the raven baseball player perked up, "you'll never guess what I stumbled upon when googling my homework!"

"You  _googled_  your homework!?" Gokudera exclaimed. 

"A bean bag patterned with baseball bats!" Ryouhei exclaimed. 

Yamamoto laughed, the warmth of Tsuna's cheek seeping through the material of his shirt. He brushed away some of the soft, tousled bangs from her face, rewarded with a slight dusting of pink suffusing her cheeks, a content softness gracing her face. Despite the context -trying to figure out the problem growing sticker, more murky and more complex by the minute and any efforts being thrown against the equation seeming futile more often than not- the moment felt sweet in itself. "No, what I found was something called Psychic Vampire Repellent, a sort of perfume." 

"Why'd anybody invent that?" Ryouhei asked curiously, words just a tad muffled and chin still against the table. Yamamoto could feel Tsuna'a grin widening into a toothy smile of crinkling eyes and rounding cheeks. 

"Vampires don't exist," Chrome piped up in a muted mumble from her old armchair where she'd curled into herself. "I- I don't think they do, at least?" 

"They don't," Haru muttered from her computer, her words as slow as her little clip where she'd zoomed in on a wing. "There's a chapter on them in _Cults in History_ \- nasty but untrue... Dammit! If I didn't know better, I'd say the beetle actually was disappearing and it wasn't some mirage caused by this misty Flame- _oh_. Oh- oh _shit_." 

The overall pleasant air turned sharp as a razor. Yamamoto almost felt he'd be able to cut himself on its edge, the blade a hair's breadth from everybody's jugular. Tsuna and Ryouhei sat up straight. Gokudera peered at the brunette researcher over the rim of the glasses he usually did not wear. Chrome glued her single violet eye onto her. 

"It's this thing I read in the occultist book... wait, I'll check, but it's this brief passage on, like, 1860s Italy or something. Mist causing hallucinations or something. Actually, it seemed like the only thing with potential, but it was really brief and only mentioned anything to do with fire one or twice at best." 

Haru almost jumped up from her chair to dive towards the shelf, ripped the book towards her and start skimming through the pages right there in the cold hard floor. Yamamoto couldn't help the surge of hope: it had been so very long since any book had indicated anything, and as a result they'd been left to their own feverish, amateurish devices. However, he also knew how long it could take for Haru to go through even one passage, take notes and double check dates or names for accuracy. 

"C'mon, let's not stress her," he proposed lightly, knowing all too well what it was like to have pressure hover and weigh down onto you, however unintentional it was. "Maybe we should do what Tsuna-chan thought of last year: simply write down what each and every one of us relates to our Flames- instinctively, that is." 

"That'd be a biased source, then," Gokudera pointed out, then caught himself with a telltale quick, intense glance towards the short young woman. "But of course it's very important to take _everything_ into account." 

Yamamoto had to chuckle. Tsuna's expression had molded into a truce between bashfulness and affection, as though she's forgotten about it herself. Yamamoto hadn't. She'd come up with it just after they'd kissed for the first time, a soft, brief peck only, a mere brush of the lips when he'd come late and thought he'd interrupted Kyouko's and Hana's introduction into the Great Equation (as Haru had codenamed it). But apparently they'd already been aware for two weeks and all Yamamoto had interrupted was Tsuna trying to explain to Hana how on earth she could care so deeply for three boys at once. 

 _It just sort of happened naturally_ , Tsuna had answered with wide eyes begging for understanding yet defensive like a cornered cat, _I can't really explain, but_   _it feels like it belongs-_

Yamamoto had interrupted that. Gokudera and Ryouhei had been there as well, one leaning against the wall with poison simmering in jade green eyes and the other unnaturally quiet in an armchair, stubbornly avoiding his younger sister's inquiring gold-lime stare. Yamamoto was fairly certain it had all been accepted by now, but was also aware it was easier to not rub it in their faces. Neither Hana, Kyouko, Chrome nor Haru needed nor wanted to have a reminder when everything ran so smoothly without one. Yamamoto could understand that, and had likely agreed with their views up until Tsuna and the Flames had happened. Sometimes he felt as though despite how he'd come to adore life, he still stood there on the edge of the precipice, untethered and left to fall into the maws of death.

But he wouldn't, because he _belonged_. 

"I'm sort of hungry," Tsuna confessed, glancing up with a sheepish tilt to her lips, deep amber eyes soft as she then regarded them all with a furrow between her brows. Yamamoto thought she looked very beautiful. She wore a sky blue ribbon in her hair today, contrasting greatly with the tawny and pine green of the school uniform they still wore. She noticed his gaze, soft pink lips curving into a charming smile as the crease at her brow smoothened out. "I'll go sneak us something to eat while we write- Chrome-chan, do you want to come with me?" 

The ninth grader looked up, slim eyebrows momentarily twitching upwards as her single wide eye turned to the brunette, deep and mysterious like the darkest of seas beneath a muddled night sky. "I- yes, I'd... like that," she answered, voice soft like a falling rose petal, adrift in the wind. She unfolded and stood up, so very pale and petite, shorter than Tsuna and sweet of face, so very frail.

She and Tsuna scaled the staircase together, steps shuffling. Yamamoto could've sworn Chrome had almost smiled at the amber eyed girl. Almost. Tsuna had the ability to smoothen the roughest of edges simply by accepting people for what they were and seeing all sides of them, not only good or bad: Chrome had no edge which was either rough or hard, but she was fractured to the touch, jagged at the edges but building herself up against with all she could. 

And Tsuna, Yamamoto knew with the certainty of a close friend and more, was more than willing to offer material to build a home and self with. 

 

* * *

 

The kitchen was a light and airy space, immaculately clean and themed a pale tan and silvery white. The Miura mother knew they were there and they could hear the woman upstairs, yet the two friends still searched the kitchen on their tiptoes and with steady, careful movements, as though afraid to drop something. 

"What about mochi?" Tsuna asked, keen stare drifting to the younger girl currently crouched in front of one of the lowest drawers, studying various packets. "There's green-tea flavored ones." 

Chrome glanced up, smothering any folds in her knee-length skirt as she stood up straight, cradling a little box with one arm and shutting the cupboard with a soft nudge of her knee, speaking: "If you want to, though I'd- maybe... pocky?" 

It was chocolate flavored. Tsuna smiled involuntarily, brushing away stray strands form her face. Their first-ever conversation had been about chocolate pocky. "Yes, of course," she hummed, almost placing back the green-tea mochi but then deciding to bring it along anyway since snacks always ran out far too quickly, wondering if it had to do with her past that the violette did not like that dessert: Chrome loved sweets, mochi in particular, and Tsuna had seen her friend down three cups of green teat in a row, therefore it had nothing to do with the taste either. She didn't ask: they never spoke of her past. 

There were many things they did not speak of. 

"We're going to the '20s cafe on Friday evening," Tsuna said instead, "do you want to come along? It's only hanging out with friends, no stuffy papers of research involved, though we do talk about the-" she paused, glancing upward to where they could hear Haru's mother rummaging, " _you know whats_ sometimes, but not... not in this sort of- studious way... ah, you get it."

Chrome took a few moments to answer, worrying the bottom of her lip between teeth, glancing outside. It was one of the older neighborhoods just outside the busiest inner circle of the city: the color theme was light, the houses had only a few floors, there were hints of gardens and the only outside lighting were the dim lampposts evenly distributed down the street. It was quiet, bookish and calm, yet in the background the skyscrapers rose up like blackened tree filled with glass leaves, the sky a watery gray-blue canvas above it all. 

"I," she started, and in her eyes there was a war of wanting to be with friends yet a fear digging its venomous teeth into everything it could find. Tsuna knew too much about that kind of creeping taint, and had it as the main reason for not believing in fate: if fate existed, good people wouldn't die, Chrome wouldn't suffer anxiety and Nana wouldn't be living like she was, all children having footprints in illegality. Fate didn't exist. But the Flames did, death did, lies did. "Where is it?" 

"It's between the Nokori blocks and Roppongi Center," she supplied, "but it's really cozy, actually."

Roppongi Center had once been a shopping mall, situated almost like a buffer zone between the edgy, black-and-neon part of the city and the more structured, uniform districts. It had been converted into a complex suiting its location perfectly, attracting many youngsters looking for fun but not danger, therefore finding themselves in that gray zone where there was a semblance of control amidst the shadows and flickering lights. The Nokori blocks was a neighborhood where the streets always seemed dusted in a fine sheen of rain shining like muted mirrors whenever a light went on, the streets narrower and relatively quiet, shops small and little entertainment to speak of, therefore also dimly lit and desolate. It was also a residential area which, at some point, had gone by an other name, but its muted nature and oppressively quiet, shadowed buildings had given it the name of Nokori. 

As though the rain had washed away the blackness of the buildings and left it gray and the people ashen. 

"That's an unusual spot," murmured Chrome, the pocky tight against her and shoulders sharply outlined against the watery light filtering in through the kitchen window, "is everybody- or only a few... how many will come?" 

"Haru-chan and I, definitely, as well as Gokudera-kun and Yamamoto-kun, Sasagawa-kun might after his hours as cashier," Tsuna summed up, racking her mind, hoping to convince the shy young girl without pressuring at all. She thought of a pocky conversation, a bathroom incident and the screaming boy crawling out of the bathroom, bloodied fingers grasping against the smudged floor. 

And it all dawned onto her. 

Tsuna swelled up with a beaming smile stretching her lips so far she almost felt as though they'd crack, and it barely felt wrong at all. "Oh, oh Chrome-chan! I think-" she glanced upwards, trying to hush her voice as a sick cocktail of excitement and churning _wrongwrongwrong_ swirled inside, "I think I figured your Flames out." 

Tsuna knew she should feel a semblance of relief at having an idea, but once the excitement of having a potential contribution towards figuring out Chrome's - _why did it always have to be Chrome, why did she have to get the complicated one which could make the toughest boy in her year scream and cry and cut his hands on a broken mirror in a girl's bathroom_ \- Flames, it was replaced with the sort of unreasonable guilt. It wasn't her fault Chrome had Flames to begin with, but somehow, the notion had nestled itself into the back of her head, chafing on her nerves, drip by drip. 

Tsuna had never been one to succumb to stress once truly faced with something, but ever since a few months ago it seemed to have started differing. Now only Yamamoto seemed to be immune to the frenzied energy tiptoeing into their lives the longer they were faced with not knowing, not understanding. Why? _How?_ Nothing made sense and not knowing was almost worse than having the orange heat buzzing just underneath her skin. Sometimes she felt like screaming, like running up to a doctor and claw at her skin and scream _it's right here I swear it's right here and it sparks from my hands and I promise I'm normal-_

Of course, she did not do such a thing and refused to give into the momentary bouts of hysterical frustration. Tsuna was many things -clumsy and emotional and perhaps not entirely ethical because of the way she was in a group getting money through illegal means and having an affair with almost half- but she was never prone to hysterics. 

When she met Chrome's glassy stare, she smiled, all comfort and solidity. "Let's go downstairs again." 

In the converted basement, Ryouhei was scowling at his paper, white hair in further tangles. When Tsuna passed, placing the green-tea mochi on the table, the pocky was carefully placed next to it, as though it were too much of an infringement for Chrome to make any sound. However, she did not slip back to her armchair. Tsuna passed Ryouhei and Yamamoto on her way past the table. The boxer had, after evident brainstorming in the form of doodles in the corner, written _extreme, lively, warm, energy_  while the baseball player had scribbled down _comfort, nice, calm_ and gotten distracted and started drawing what seemed to be a rough sketch of herself. Tsuna tried not to blush at the gesture. 

Gokudera, on the floor with his back against the cold white wall, had made a neat bullet point list, but was too far away for her to be able to decrypt his harsh, small handwriting, but when he glanced up and saw her keen expression he threw his notepad onto the floor, ballpoint pen meant to fall atop it but rolling away beneath Haru's desk instead, jumping to his feet.

"I figured it out," Tsuna announced, giddy yet with a misplaced apology searing the back of her tongue. "Chrome-chan's flames didn't make the beetle disappear, but fooled us into believing that- it tricks the senses. It's like hallucinations." 

"That seems very surreal," Haru droned from over book, bangs ruffled. "But it would make some sense...." 

"I... I  _know_ I'm right," Tsuna admitted, rather promptly, but she did, she had to convince Haru fully, both memories and gut agreed. ( _A dimly lit bathroom and a shattering mirror as he crumpled to the floor with closed eyes and hands over his ears and a mute scream tearing out his vocal chords_.) "I- it's like the time last month, when I said we better take the next bus to the Smoothie Bar, and the bus we were supposed to have taken ended up in a crash." 

"I think Tsuna-san is a hundred percent correct," Gokudera fell in swiftly, fingers brushing against hers as he came to stand next to her. They felt calloused to the touch, years of working with chemicals blurring his fingerprints. She allowed herself to rest in his gaze for a moment. Whereas Yamamoto's stare felt mirthful, soothing and tranquil, Gokudera's olive gaze was intense, as though on the edge of bursting, attractively dangerous yet fiercely loyal. But Tsuna almost thought that today, it was Ryouhei she needed, energetic and unerringly optimistic, always cheery as though he had the ability to chase shadows away. 

There were many shadows in Tokyo. 

"It does seem right to me," Chrome supplied from Tsuna's other side, standing a tad straighter, a tad less hunched, when the first piece of her puzzle was fitted. "It feels... fitting." 

Ryouhei clapped enthusiastically in the background, stopping only to speak while opening the pocky packet: "Dunno how you came up with it, but it does seem make sense- we could call it something like Illusion Flames, right, Chrome-chan?" 

Chrome startled at being addressed, a little jolt rippling through her, but while no words would come, she did nod, a hesitant little thing, walking towards the table to take a chocolate pocky for herself. 

"Right, so every Flame has its own property," Gokudera established, nodding to himself. Haru noted it down, underlining it with three heavy lines. Beneath it she put the first sub-heading, _Indigo Flame_ , under which she scribbled _Illusion Properties_ and, within a parenthesis, _Chrome Dokuro_. The silverette grinned at Tsuna, elatedly stepping close pressing a kiss to her forehead despite Chrome and Haru being in the room. "Great job," he murmured against her skin in a hoarse rasp, smelling of smoke and cologne with hints of something reminiscent of burning newspapers dipped in paint. 

Tsuna beamed, and for a moment, she almost felt like an average girlfriend who'd scored good on a test. 

 

* * *

 

 

The guitar case hung heavily upon her back as she walked down the street, the slight heels of her ankle boots clicking against the wet asphalt which glowed dimly in red, violet and orange as the neon signs admired their distorted reflections in the ground. Caramel brown locks were up in a rare ponytail with stray strands framing the unusually impassive face, eyeliner a delicately dark touch. 

She even wore an oversized leather jacket. 

It wasn't her, it wasn't who Sawada Setsuna was but nobody would recognize her, she knew, because she never wore punk clothes and she most certainly did not play guitar. And therefore it was the best disguise, hiding without hiding, walking down the street as though she belonged there. The air was moist, windows with bad isolation fogged up to shut her out even further and baby hair frizzing up to curl around her temples. 

She turned to the left, walking down a street which was on the narrow side, pausing at the first door. A tall guard, donning a white button-up and sloppy dark pants, held up a hand; droning: "state your business" with flat eyes and a plump, cruel set of the liips. 

"I'm here to give my sister her guitar," Tsuna said, drawled, or at least tried to, managing to stifle the urge to shuffle awkwardly. She came across more as bitching or annoyed, but it worked either way and, predictably, there was no requirements for IDs or further checks. The band playing in the barlike club knew their guitar would be delivered to them, but it was no sister who would be arriving. 

Inside, the light altered between a dim yellow and sleepy indigo, furniture a sleek black wood and dyed violet leather. The bartender was clad in a neatly pressed uniform, hair neatly combed with gel as aid. His features were sharp, but his eyes sharper. It was still early, not many were there: a trio of men in dark suits and hints of tattoos peeking beneath their crisp collars or starched sleeves, little lines of ink only visible to the practiced eye and keen intuition, an ultimately harmless couple in the corner, leisurely kissing with drooping eyes and wandering hands in the shadows, and a small group hushedly doing the pre-talk part of business discussions. 

Tsuna knew all about the system here. In an hour the place would be filled with the more daring, the more edgy and shadowed, of youths, and the band would play. Then the musicians and music-enjoyers would drift out into the city and the shady talk and ambiguous outings would continue, cover as pub solid enough for the police not to poke deeper. Tsuna also knew the police did not come here, ever, but guarantees were appreciated buffer zones for the visitors slipping in and out of these neighborhoods, where there was more talk than action and more leisure than conflict. 

She crossed the subtly lacquered floor, staring straight ahead and resisting the urge to ball her fists, a far too telling sign of discomfort, pretending to neither notice nor care when one of the inked young men, a brunette in his later twenties with slanted eyes and a smirk tugging at thin lips, rested his eyes on her for far too long and far too low as she passed. Tsuna failed to phantom why people felt the need to stare at her ass, _any_ ass, pursing her lips once none could see her expression, slipping through the small door labeled _Staff Only_. 

The hallway she found herself in was of wooden roof and floor but grimy white walls, the smell of smoke a lingering whiff in the air. It was well-lit, with a door leading to the storeroom to her left, a door with the inscription  _Toilets_ to her right and a worn wooden staircase leading up in front of her. There was an old paper wrapping crumpled in the corner. Climbing the stairs, she adjusted the straps digging into her shoulders through the leather of her jacket, grateful it was a black pullover she wore underneath to keep the chill out as she passed an open window. Somebody must have smoked and tried (failed) to erase traces of smoke by opening it. Outside, dottings of stars peeked through the misty coverage of dull clouds, the eternal symphony of city life let inside along the faint smell of weed and fuel from the backyard she now caught sight of. 

Amber-brown eyes scanned the small, empty space, registering the drab tarmac and gray walls rising high on all sides, the tall bushes on one side and the heavy metal door, discolored with grime and perhaps rust, a floor below her. She tried not to think of what it was used for, and resolutely continued up the stairs, exhaling slowly and schooling her face as she reached the door at the top of the stairs. It was left-half open and she, after spending a split-second debating whether to knock or not when she was supposed to be a punk, allowed her politeness to win and rapped her knuckles against the rough wood, swallowing. 

Her heart fluttered nervously against her ribs, a wary canary. Mission almost accomplished. 

Conversation inside died down, heavy steps approached and then the door was opened further, revealing an androgynous-looking beanstalk with a long fringe tangling in front of dark eyes. His smile was soft but oddly vacant as he welcomed her inside, to which the young Sawada complied without hesitation, relieved to place the heavy guitarcase against the wall. 

"Don't forget your guitar the next time, sis," she droned, finally saying what she'd drilled into her head all afternoon at school. "It's heavy." 

The lead guitarist was a short girl with bleached hair a moonlight white and eyes ringed with dark eyeliner, copious amounts of mascara and heavy black eye shadow, which paired with her sickly skin color gave her a wraithlike appearance. "Whatevs, kiddo," she mumbled dully, but her fingers trembled and her eyes stood frantic as she hastily checked the subtle pocket to its side. Tsuna knew what she'd find, knew her black-painted, pale fingers would brush against the little plastic bags filled with white powder. A mute sigh of relief rippled over the ghost girl in front of the brunette. The four other band members pretended to be busy with their instruments. 

Tsuna was overcome by a sense of absurdism. Thursday nights out were go-time for university students when it came to partying, and here she was, earning money through smuggling like a go-between whilst Nana was safe in the apartment, putting Lambo and I-Pin to bed and thinking her Tsu-chan was simply studying with Haru. It twisted something inside of her, the lies rippling through her, yet she stood firm in her opinion that it was better this way, that Nana shouldn't have to know. It was necessary to do this. They needed the money, had to find the cash somewhere, and it wasn't for a beanbag. 

The empty-smiled beanstalk was the one to press money into her hand, a subtle motion when passing her, humming odd tunes to warm up his voice. Back to the door, the smuggler in punk getup flicked through the bills, doing her best to count accurately, hairs on the back of her neck standing up straight. It seemed to be about right, though she would never swear on it since it relied on her speed-calculating abilities which were, unfortunately, not very impressive. 

Gokudera would've been brilliant for the job, what with his quick mind and fitting persona, but he had an air screaming of trouble and destruction- he'd have been checked by the sloppy guard, and if not, would have somehow ended up with a fight with some of the slick yakuza mouthpieces sent to haggle deals. Yamamoto, on the other hand, wouldn't have been able to get in for the sole reason he was suspiciously innocent, happy-go-lucky and cheery. Ryouhei was not fit for this since he couldn't lie or put up an act to save his life, Chrome's nerves would frazzle halfway and Haru would not be allowed by anybody to run off into illegal side jobs. 

"Don't be home late," Tsuna spoke into empty air, sort of meaning it, sort of trying not to feel guilty about letting them indulge themselves like this, and then turned on her heel and descended the staircase with audibly clicking steps courtesy to her slight heels. The money weighed heavily on her conscience. 

 _It's for a good cause_ , she told herself as walked through the club, _it's for Haru-chan and Gokudera-kun, Yamamoto-kun, Sasagawa-kun, Lambo-chan and Chrome-chan_. She couldn't help but to sag with relief once she'd rounded the corner of the street, leaving the place behind her, almost missing the heavy weight of the metal instrument: it had been like donning armor to protect her back. She wrapped her arms around her, pulling the supple leather closer to shield herself from the biting drizzle carried by the chilling wind. She didn't doubt her makeup would start running soon. 

Tsuna almost hated it. And usually, she rather liked this sort of weather. 

It took Gokudera another two minutes to arrive, but once he did, she was ready to laugh with relief at the sight of the motorcycle (second-hand but trustworthy and _legal_ ) speed toward her, skidding to a reluctant halt in front of her, managing to stay away from the rivulets of water amassed at the sides of the streets to run along the side of the pavement. Silver hair was glimpsed beneath the obscuring black-red helmet, and the stubborn set of the jaw as well as the pale, chapped lips set into an absentminded scowl betrayed he, too, found it a miserable weather. 

And he had most likely been worried for her, not to mention aggravated that the money was needed in the first place, because  _of course_  figuring out they needed to look deeper into fire within religion (according to the ever-studious Haru) meant making a trip to the other end of Japan during a weekend. This, of course, would not be allowed by any parent, but a supposed trip to just outside Tokyo was acceptable. They just needed a whole lot more money than would be necessary in their cover story, hence the new job which was certainly on the shadier end of the spectrum, at least relatively speaking for them. 

"Hey," she murmured as she accepted the gray spare helmet, fingers catching on the edge of the _Pink Panther_ sticker Lambo had glued on two weeks ago. It was starting to curl at the edges. In return, she handed him the money. He'd bring it to the dealer who'd give them the share they'd earned while she'd be allowed to go home. She had a mother waiting for her, three younger siblings. 

He didn't. 

"Any trouble?" He asked whilst she clambered on, squeezing the sides of the purring vehicle with her knees and wrapping her arms around him, pressed against his back and the fur lining of his hood tickling her nose, fingers curling into the material of his thick jacket, knuckles white. She'd never been comfortable on motorcycles. 

There were many things, recently, she was not comfortable with, but she knew, crystal clear, that not doing anything would feel far worse. 

"No, no trouble," she answered, the misty drizzle turning to light rain and starting to seep through her jeans. The motor revved and a few moments later, they were speeding away from the bar, away from the neighborhood, away from the illegality and Tsuna, Tsuna buried her face into the fur and tried to forget that it ever happened. Tried to keep hiding inside the lie that she was normal, that what she was doing wasn't _that_ bad, wasn't _that_ illegal or unusual. 

( _Sawada Setsuna is normal, Tsuna thought, inhaling slowly and deliberately, holding her breath for a moment, steadying her heartbeat. She met her reflection's golden brown stare, muscles pulling and twisting soft pink lips into a semblance of a smile. Sawada Setsuna is a slice of life, a clumsy and everyday girl whose biggest problem is passing the school year_.) 

And the lie was slipping from her fingers, reality hot on her heels. 

They swerved around a passing car, a honk the angry reply as they speeded along, neon lights growing rarer and regular lampposts more regular, shop windows dark and buildings tall and drab but with invitingly golden windows wherever lights were on in a room, family life just bending those walls, glimpsed through those clean windows framed with soft curtains. 

Slowly, while her thighs were rendered cold by wind and rain, Gokudera's warmth reached her, palms of her hands warm but knuckles cold, one cheek comfortable but the other almost stinging. And she smiled, a small thing only, but it was there, real and solid. Her grip tightened. 

The trip ended a corner away from street where her apartment was. Behind her was the subway entrance: if Nana were to look out of the window it would seem as though Tsuna had simply taken the sub home from Haru. She handed the spare helmet and his leather jacket back to Gokudera, who accepted, returning a great fluffy pastel-pink hoodie back in return, which she slipped on. 

"I prefer you this way," he admitted after a moment, "without the weird getup." 

Her heart thawed impossibly. "Never again," she assured. 

"Hopefully," he agreed, so quiet she almost didn't her head over the white-noise caused by the rain and city. These neighborhoods were thankfully residential, however, and therefore rather empty at the moment. 

"Be safe," she told, _instructed_ him, then mustered another smile, this one more tired, more comforting although she wasn't certain who needed more comfort. Worry granted inside, a thrum against her heartstrings, but her tone was teasing: "I can't kiss you goodbye if you keep your helmet on." 

Her smile threatened to turn into a soft grin when his own lips quirked upward, hasty to fumble off the heavy headwear and lean forward to catch her lips, one hand tangling into the hair at the nape of her neck and tilting her head back. Tsuna pressed back, lips moving against lips, her hand curling around his shoulder and fisting the wet material of his jacket, almost forgetting to breathe as warmth coursed through her like golden stars. The taste of smoke and mint was pleasantly familiar, just like the feel of the rough softness of his mouth, the tip of his tongue brushing against her own when lips parted, the rain a veiling pitter-patter around them as tongues danced almost shyly, carefully, despite being intimately familiar with one another.

They pulled apart, both breathing a little heavier than they'd admit, the movement almost sudden. She watched him in silence as he pulled the helmet on again. Noticing her alert, expectant amber gaze, he assured with an affectionate grin coloring his voice and warming his partially hidden features: "I'll be safe, no need to worry." 

"I'll always worry," she threw back, took a last few steps back and tore her gaze away as he veered down the street again. Sawada Setsuna started heading home, dabbing her eyes with a tissue dampened by rain and saliva to remove the worst of the makeup, letting her hair loose to tumble around her shoulder in their usual messy tangles. Gone was the appearance of an almost-punk, left was a Tsuna clad in pastel pink fluff, unlocking the door to the complex and shutting it behind her again with a nudge of her leather shoes. The stained tissue was thrown into the bin after checking her reflection in the glass. Infinitely better. 

Her family was waiting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the feeling this chapter is confusing as hell. Oh well, shit happens^^ Don't worry, we won't be focusing as much on their illegal activities anymore, because even though it's important for them to have the means of doing things, it's hardly the main part of the plot. I'm actually planning on having more interactions with everybody. 
> 
> Anybody got any ship scenes they want me to try fit into this story? Can't promise they'll be there but honestly, I'm a hopeless romantic and while there won't be explicit smut or anything like that, you can expect some eyebrow wiggles from me to you. And fluff. 
> 
> Next up: detention with Hibari and Friday night outing.


	3. Dipping Toes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, everyone! Kudos and comments have been very appreciated, as always. They really make my day. (Hint hint^^) 
> 
> Important:  
> Tsuna's relationships are very confusing. Slightly less so for her, Gokudera, Yamamoto and Ryouhei, who've been there during its entire development, but still. Pair that together with Hibari's general attitude.... He's not showing his best side this chapter, but let's face it: he needs time to come to terms with the situation in his own special way. He's like that. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I have to admit my two inspirational songs in terms of tone for this fic has been Deathless and River, both by Ibeyi. 
> 
> Reminder: it says both mature and underage in the warning tags. That's mostly because of some heated scenes in this fic, although mentionings of alcohol consumption, though not focused on as much, is also in the present.

Few people would ever be able to point at Nana and say: _you're stressed_. That was -admittedly- mostly because she hardly ever was stressed, though it was also a fact that the way it manifested itself was unconventional. Tsuna, however, was always aware whenever her mother was stressed. Reading people was a necessity of life. Of her life. 

"Don't forget to call when you're on your way back home," Nana reminded Tsuna as the voluptuous girl maneuvered out of the cramped car. "Both from the detention and going out." 

"No need to worry," Tsuna smiled gently, trying to jerk her backpack out from the space where it had been squeezed into space between her feet. Lambo, I-Pin and Fuuta had already been dropped off at their school, and since Nana would be driving to a one-day psychology course anyway she had decided to drop her daughter of as well since it was on the way. "I'll call _and_ send a text the moment I'm on my way back home." 

"There'll be dinner ready for you," the mother frowned faintly, sighing. "Oh, Tsu-chan... why do you have Friday detentions so often?"

It was a rhetorical question, luckily, because the younger of the two had no intentions of explaining that she was bad at following rules (unintentionally) and that whatever she and Hibari felt for each other wasn't entirely neutral either. 

"I'll do my best to avoid it in the future," she promised, a tingle brushing down her spine like fingers ghosting against her skin, "good luck today!" 

Nana finally smiled, "you too! I've looked forward to the course for so long, I'll tell you all about it when you..." the smile faded, "for how long will you be home before Gokudera-kun picks you up tonight?" 

There were too many uncomfortable questions that morning, and it had started when Nana had hinted that she was curious about who Tsuna might be fancying. 

"Not very long, sorry," Tsuna admitted softly after a moment, slinging her bag over one shoulder and correcting her seaman-blazer. She offered her sweetest of smiles and as expected, Nana's pout faded into a mildly disapproving smile. "But I'd love to hear all about it. And don't worry about me getting home safely, either. I'll send a message on my way home, since it might get late. And do you want me to wake you up, just to tell you I'm there?" 

The mother thought about it for a moment, "that'd be lovely, but we'll talk more when you get home." 

"Sure, love you kaa-chan," Tsuna offered another placating smile, and closed the door to the car. It swung shut with a violent slam and both of them jumped, the schoolgirl swallowing. "I'm so sorry, I leaned against it at the same time and, uh, yeah..." 

The lie slipped out too easily, so in character. She averted her amber eyes, outwardly sheepish, yet privately she cursed. It had been building up for too long, that orange energy inside. But at least there weren't scorch marks on the car, that'd have been even worse. 

"Oh, Tsu-chan, you're still so clumsy. I thought it had gotten better over the last two years," Nana sighed fondly as she switched on the engine again. (Tsuna truly had gotten more handy over the years, but clumsiness was always a good excuse whenever she _accidentally_ dropped a cup of tea or the hem of her sleeve got burned.) As she started driving, Nana added: "And behave!" 

 _Behave_. 

Tsuna waved after the disappearing little Honda and then turned on her heel. It felt as though she'd been drinking a triple espresso with caramel and cream on top, fingers almost twitching with energy. It was not going to be a good day. It had been a week and two days since the last time she'd conjured a Flame, or even a spark, and clearly the suppressed power beneath her skin was starting to disagree with its confines. 

She breathed out, walking in through the gates. Whilst going through her I-am-normal pep talk inside her head, she did the breathing exercise she'd learned at the meditation class she'd taken once a while ago together with her fellow anomalous friends and lovers on Haru's request. 

 _Behave_. 

"Hey, Tsuna-chan," Yamamoto grinned when she reached the group which, as always, had assembled beneath the cherry tree. (Hibari hated groups and rarely came close to cherry trees.) Sasagawa Ryouhei and Kyouko were there as well, together with Gokudera and Hana. "Ready for the math test?" 

"The what?" She repeated after a moment wherein her heart virtually stopped. "We had- we- um, can I just... die a little?" 

Yamamoto laughed: "You'll do fine, I'm sure. You said yourself probabilities isn't as difficult for you." 

Tsuna muttered: "The key word is 'not _as_ difficult', Yamamoto-kun, _as_." 

Ryouhei, remembering his previous year, winced sympathetically: "The test they'll give is extremely difficult." 

Hana huffed, crossing her lithely muscled arms. "That's not very encouraging."

"Idiot," Gokudera added under his breath to avoid either Kyouko or Hana overhearing, "you think everything is difficult." Then he raised his voice, green eyes flashing to the shortest girl. "It'll be fine. I can pass along a note with the answers, if you'd like." 

"Yes, please," Tsuna accepted at the same time as Hana objected: 

"That's cheating, and she can handle herself, you know." 

Tsuna disagreed, but Hana was clearly in a foul mood and whenever she had her inky hair back in a braid it meant she wasn't above showing off her karate skills as long as Hibari or the DC wasn't there to see it. Tsuna rather enjoyed watching some of her more swaggering classmates cower in front of Hana when she gave them her deluxe death glare, but nobody liked to be the subject of the raven's ire. 

"Oh, look, there's Haru-chan," Kyouko intervened diplomatically as the perky brunette in question skipped across the tarmac toward them. The evergreen skirt of the uniform highlighted the length of the approaching girl's legs. The DC guard who always 'just happened' to stand at the school gates momentarily followed her with his eyes before reminding himself of his post. 

"Good morning everybody!" Haru exclaimed joyously before she reached the clique. "I've had a coffee too much but that's okay because I was up reading semi-smutty vampire novels last night until three AM because apparently that was a good idea." 

"What's... smutty?" Kyouko asked with a bemused smile. Haru faltered while Gokudera casually lit a forbidden cigarette on school grounds. 

"It's-" Yamamoto started blithely, though he was cut off by Tsuna who poked him in the ribs. 

"It means that," Ryouhei started with a too-wide smile betraying he was about to come up with an outrageous lie, "it's extremely long and really uninteresting and, um, not at all your style because it's a psy- psychological thriller which really gets to you. In a bad way."

"Oh," Kyouko hummed, "I don't like thrillers- oh gosh, I forgot my English book near the cafeteria yesterday!" Her eyes widened further with a sweet plea: "could somebody please come with me to get it? This thriller talk is reminding me of that horror movie we had to watch in philo." 

"I'll come with you," Hana offered with a softening of the eyes. Kyouko thanked her profusely as they left together to retrieve the book. Tsuna hoped it hadn't gotten wet or dirty. 

It was Haru, almost bouncing on her feet with a very different kind of energy than Tsuna was struggling with, who was the first to speak up: "Hahi, forgot to ask- where do we meet up? At the park or Cafe Kiki or at my place? Or at somebody else's? Also, I have a bottle of Smirnoff which my dad forgot he ever bought-"

"I don't drink," Tsuna reminded her awkwardly, hating the taste of both wine and beer and staying away from anything stronger on principle. Haru, however, had come into contact with the more burning liquids and recently discovered her parents' assortment lined up in their own cupboard. Unsurprisingly, it was Gokudera who indulged himself the most together with Haru. 

"I know, I know, that's fine and good 'cause it a bad habit," the brunette nodded brightly, "and also, do you wanna read through my maths revision? I have all the formulas explained." 

"Yes please!" She was quick to agree, smiling gratefully when her best girl friend conjured a squared paper cluttered with notes from her yellow bag. "You're a life-saver." 

"I know," Haru laughed, rearranging her bag in order to prevent her dark auburn hairs from getting stuck beneath the bands. Yamamoto peered at the recap and examples given of different problems over Tsuna's shoulder, his breath a warm caress brushing against the the column of her neck. As always, his presence was calming, soothing, a layer of cooling balm across her oversensitive nerves. 

"We can meet up at Kiki's," Ryouhei proposed after a moment, "Yamamoto-kun and I have a longer practices today, and I know Tsuna-chan has a detention. If we meet up at somebody's on beforehand it'll only stress people." 

"Sounds good," said Yamamoto, who didn't like being short on time. Tsuna hummed as well. 

"Right! 'Kay, so, also," Haru continued on about a cosplay website she'd found which combined vampires and manga, although it did seem to have a racy undertone. "...and there is even a section dedicated to soulmates, which is so cute and..."

Gokudera smoked in silence, jade eyes lidded and, for once, entirely calm. The cherry tree above had long since started loosing its pink petals and almost all branches were adorned by rustling green leaves flirting with the rising sun which was partially obscured by thin sleets of cloud. Pink and brown dusted the asphalt ground beneath their feet and as the breeze curled through the air, the few remaining cherry petals being plucked from their branches to drift through the air. Summer was started to edge nearer with late May in full swing, and for a moment, the tickling warmth inflaming her nerves was lessened. 

She was entirely plugged into the moment, into the life around her, a sort of almost dreamy awareness making her bask in simply existing. Then the bell rang and she was called back to reality.

"Oh, I really don't want to go to class," Haru blurted out and all agreed in their own special way. Tsuna, after receiving an encouraging wink from the ponytailed girl, tucked the recap paper she was handed into her messenger bag. 

"Well, let's get it over with," Gokudera sighed and crushed his cigarette beneath his shoe before walking away toward advanced physics with Haru: they were the two academically brightest of the group. 

"I'll see you guys at lunch," Ryouhei grinned brightly at the remaining duo, giving them a thumbs up. "Go ace that test!" 

"We'll try," Yamamoto laughed with crinkling eyes, correcting his crooked collar since the DC was guaranteed to start checking uniforms once school had officially started. 

"I would say good luck for sports," Tsuna grinned gently, meeting his sunny silver eyes from beneath dark lashes, "but you don't need it." 

An earnest and sweet emotion washed across his features: "If it's from you, it'll make a difference." 

And her heart melted into cotton candy, golds of her eyes bright. Momentarily, his own silver orbs flickered down to the pale rosiness of her lips, but he only flashed them both another white grin before bounding off, backpack over one shoulder and PE bag merrily swing in his other hand. There was an unspoken promise between Tsuna, Yamamoto, Ryouhei and Gokudera (and, to some extent, Hibari though he didn't quite count) not to display any affection other than expected of friendship when in public. 

Worrying her bottom lip, she turned to the tall athlete whom she shared literature with. First lesson on Friday and Monday was always reserved for the class one had taken an advanced course in, and for Tsuna literature had been the easiest subject since she was an averagely fast reader with an eye for detail and character traits. Yamamoto ha tagged along since it was reasonably interesting and one of the few written subject he was genuinely good at. 

"It's maths after this," she mused out loud, trying to process the new source of information. "I am royally fudged." 

"I'm pretty fucked, too," he shrugged, nudging her with his shoulder as they started walking to the entrance closest to their classroom. "But Kagayama-sensei would never notice or object to use studying maths as long as we don't, you know, get him into trouble for it." 

"Yeah, he's nice like that," Tsuna agreed, then lowered her voice and leaned closer to him as they entered the building, the loud ruckus of teeneger crammed into hallways and staircases all around them. "For the... weekend trip we've been, um, working for, should we bring Lambo? He's personally involved and stuff, but at the same time... well, I doubt Nana would just let me steal one of her kids while leaving the others without an explanation. And I don't have one or can't come up with one- an explanation, I mean." 

"Why not bring them all along?" Yamamoto asked, voice barely audible despite their close proximity as they started scaling the crowded stairs. 

"It doesn't feel right to involve them more than they need to. The only reason I'm thinking about bringing a seven year old along in the guests place is because he has the, ah, _you know whats_. I already feel bad for dragging him into whatever this is." Especially since the trip was, for starters, not to the place they pretended to go to to their parents and, secondly, funding the part of the trip which the oblivious parents weren't paying for came through illegal jobs such as smuggling drugs in a guitar case. 

"It's up to you to decide, in the end," Yamamoto started with a thoughtful look upon his tanned face. Luckily the volume of the school was so high nobody could overhear them, which was why they had dared to speak about it in the first place. "But I'd try to bring him. He's part of the group, even though not as actively. It's the first real, solid lead in over a year and he can't be as fine with it as he tries to seem." 

It was true. Lambo was a young child of laughs, zeal and loud voices and while he was rather quick to cry, he'd never once complained about the Flames, never once hinted anything to Nana and not once complained about occasionally being brought to the headquarters-basement at Haru's whenever said Researcher thought to have come up with something which could lead them closer to an answer. 

Tsuna sighed and, hidden from everybody's eyes in the crowd, slipped her hand into his larger one, squeezing for a second before letting go again. Neither's expression changed but when slanting a glance up at him, she could see the warmth and affection in his hazel eyes and perpetual smile. 

* * *

Hana could be scary, but in the way a friend could be scary. 

Hibari, on the other hand, was scary in the way a criminal boss was scary. That was probably because he also was a criminal boss of late, but even before high school had started he'd been the scariest person she knew. Luckily, however, knowing him and being -arguably and without concrete evidence- somebody he didn't hate made life and detentions easier. 

She was reasonably calm for it being the Demon Prefect, except her overheated nerves, along which orange Flames and sparks raced. The maths test had seen the pent-up energy being used for heightened concentration until she was almost certain embers had threatened to shine in her eyes. That, paired with Haru's clear notes and a paper with the answers to the three most difficult and point-awarding questions being snuck from Gokudera to Tsuna (who then passed it along to Yamamoto) led to her most likely passing. 

She'd decided to catch up on all she'd missed during her hour of literature, and was therefore trying to analyze the sociopolitical undertones in a book written by the Nobel Prize winner Oue Kenzaburou. At first it had gone well, managing to write two sizable paragraphs, but then her mind had drifted to how they would manage to scrape together the last bit of money for their weekend trip to the Fire Temple, the lies, Nana, her adopted siblings and finally to trying to deny the fact that she was unable to quite understand how her reverse harem relationship was wrong. Factually, she knew that it had to be kept under wraps from anybody not in the group -unfortunately including Lambo and her family- but that energy was acting up inside and didn't want to suppress anything, not to mention that it had been normalized by now. So much had been normalized. 

(She didn't know how much.) 

Tsuna heaved a sigh as she turned the page of her book, absently sucking on the inside of her cheek. She sat in the middle of an empty class while Hibari had claimed the teacher's seat in the front of the room. His dark gray eyes, the color of steel and stormy seas, flashed to her for a split-second at the sound before refocusing on his work. The fact that he was going through lists of people opposing his DC (yakuza terms) spoke of a form of trust. Any other student would've ended up with a nameless DC member to watch them on a Wednesday afternoon, but Tsuna always got Fridays with Hibari. 

Unsurprisingly, the atmosphere prickled like needles against her skin. Only an hour ago he'd broken one of her classmate's wrist and the crack still echoed through her head. There had been no sympathy at the ensuing scream: if anything, the evident pain her classmate had been in only brought forth contempt from him. 

She refrained from swallowing.

Dredging up the last specks of motivation, Tsuna started writing her third paragraph. Her throat felt clogged with jailed words, chest and stomach filled with rush and her hands tingling with too much too much too much- 

The tip of her pencil broke suddenly, the gray point gone in a flash. Her hand felt too warm. Her head was empty yet filled. Her nerves were fraying at the seams. 

A shuddering breath, her right hand wrapping around the cooling leg of the table. The metal chilled her somewhat for a moment, but then her heart thudded and her fingers closed a little too tightly. Letting go, there were slight dents which reflected the clinical, overhead lights far too easily. Heat had melted it. Teeth bit down onto her bottom lip, not quite drawing blood. 

Her name was Sawada Setsuna and she was not normal. 

"What happened to the bench?" Hibari's voice cut through the air, eyes too sharp as he stood up and started making his way toward her. Alarm rung through her, back straight and feet glued to the floor. She looked up in the general direction of his face but didn't dare to fasten her gaze anywhere close to his eyes, gluing her attention in a safe zone near his almost delicate jawline. 

 _He's going to bite me to death_. 

"I didn't, um, there's, what I mean is, like-" Tsuna started, and displeasure ghosted across his lips at her stammering. _He has Flames, too_ , she reminded herself somewhat unhelpfully, _he won't think you're a freak_. "What I mean to say is that I'll make sure it's fixed. And that the table is still perfectly useable." 

His eyes could've frozen hell over, though that wasn't unusual for him. There was a deceptive tone of silk in his voice: "That was not what I asked." 

She blinked, words not coming quick enough. "Right. Sorry. It was... an accident. I'm sorry." Then the distress ebbed away at a realization that he'd caught on too quickly about the table leg. "Were you watching me?" 

He scoffed in that special way of his: "It's your movements which give you away." 

"I, okay," she looked away from his intimidating form, carefully closing her book. Hibari noticed everything too quickly: she wasn't even surprised he kept an eye on whoever was in his immediate vicinity despite being immersed in work. Something inside built up and when it spilled out, it was in the form of words: "We're going on a trip- I mean, my friends who also have, um, Flames, and I are leaving in two weeks to visit a promising temple where they seem to know more about it. What I'm trying to say is... would you want to come along?" 

His eyes drilled holes into her head, hard and sharp like spear tips. Even though he said nothing, the mute question was like a dagger pressing against her neck and drawing blood: Hibari didn't need to vocalize it and he knew it. 

"I guess I always knew something was different about you, somehow," she admitted after a moment, heart beating bruises onto the insides of her ribs. "And now, ever since I discovered I was, ah, different, I figured you were the same. I know you are." 

_'But you already knew that I knew, didn't you?'_

He regarded her for another moment, their height difference even more apparent since he was standing and she remained rooted in her chair. He'd grown a lot the last two years: as he was two years older and it was her first year in high school, it had been two years since she'd last seen him this regularly. With terrifying cool, he uttered: "We are not the same." 

"Right," Tsuna sighed, more than willing to change the subject. From the corner of her eye, she met his gaze and smiled. "I suppose not." 

Two months ago, she wouldn't have dreamed of being that familiar with him. But something had changed since the start of the school year. Something important. 

He bent down toward her, and for a split-second she'd been about to  lean back but then, with his bangs tickling her cheek and a hand curling into her shoulder, their lips met. 

It wasn't their first kiss. They'd had brief moments of intimacy before, usually when she was about to leave the detention room. But now it wasn't a brief movement of lips against lips whilst about to walk out of the classroom door, now it was in the middle of their detention and there hadn't been an odd build-up of sneaking glances and resting in too-intense stares which weren't entirely appropriate for a classroom environment. But as always, problems such as polyamory or age differences remained only a factual string of rules in her head and nothing more and she kissed back, threading her fingers through the inky silk of his hair and gently tugging him closer, champagne bubbling inside at answering bite upon her lower lip. The silence of the classroom where she'd suffered through her maths test only a few hours ago, was only broken by smothered breaths through noses and rustles of clothes as they, despite the awkwardness of the position with her sitting and him standing, angled closer. 

Somewhere, an absurd voice sounding like Haru said: _you're smooching the head DC who is two and a half years older than you!_

 _'And surely it isn't wrong_ ,' she then added in the privacy her mind while her arm snuck around his shoulder: that moment she didn't understand why Nana - _behave_ \- or anybody would be against this.  

It felt so _good_. 

His tongue brushed against hers and then -inciting a breathless smile from her- he parted in order to wrap his hands around her waist and lift her up, perching her upon the desk in front of him. She'd barely registered that the edge of her book was poking almost painfully into her butt before she'd swept forward and caught his lips again, eyes closing yet with the image of a low fire in his eyes etched into her mind. Her tongue flicked out to brush against his lips, and she'd barely even touched them before a dance of tongues ensued. The feel of the wet muscle flicking and caressing hers filled her with a heady excitement, lips parting further to allow his tongue into her mouth, slick and hot and insistent. She breathed in sharply through her nose at the feel of him. The hand tangled in his hair tightened while she pressed herself closer against Hibari, his chest pressing against the generous swell of her bust with each breath they took. His hands, previously circling her waist, drew her nearer as one arm wrapped around the small of her back and the other hand sunk to press against the side of her hip, thumb rubbing circles which she could feel through the evergreen material of her skirt. 

Tsuna drew a shuddering breath when they parted, amber-brown eyes wide and longing for something more, a pleasant ache deep in her stomach. The fingers of his hands were long and slender, almost spiderlike, a pianist's dream even as they were stretched wide and warm against her. A smile threatened to curl her lips when he almost possessively pulled her closer to the edge, pressing her up against him with his hips nestled between her thighs when he once again leaned in to devour her.

"A _-ah_." The sound escaping her was light and breathy and very much unexpected. His grip tightened, fingers digging into her skin while he kissed and kissed and kissed until the intrusive feel of his tongue in her mouth felt natural and not enough. Her nerves were on fire and she _yearned_  for something hot and consuming. She felt him smirk into the kiss when she crossed her ankles behind him to lock him into place, feeling the heat of his body through the layers of clothes separating them. 

She arched against him, tawny blazer riding up to her the small of waist at the motion. Tsuna took satisfaction in detecting the barely-there shiver traveling up his spine before he, surprisingly gently, sucked on her tongue before leaning back to study her face.

A rosy flush still riding high upon her cheeks and doing her best not to pant too obviously, she blinked away the haze of her mind and cocked her head to the side, an eyebrow raised. "...and? Would you want to come with me, with us, in two weeks?" 

He almost snorted - _almost_ , because her was Hibari Kyouya- with something disdainful yet amused twisting his lips and gleaming in his dark metallic eyes: "I don't need to huddle in a herd to survive."

The pink warmth inside was doused in ice water. Abruptly untangling her legs she, proving her flexibility, maneuvered back into her seat without touching Hibari who had yet to move away. Lips pursing to keep back any other emotion than calm, she managed: "I see." 

She started sharpening her pencil with slow, carefully steady movements. 

He said, most likely uncaring instead of oblivious: "I suppose you couldn't just pick one of your boyfriends instead of keeping us all?" 

Tsuna froze, then breathed out. The worst part was that it was a genuine question and not a taunt: Hibari would never lower himself to needling people. He considered himself above such tactics. Then she had to correct herself: the worst part was that nobody outside her clique was meant to know about her various confusing relationships. _Yet he knew_. 

Denial was futile. Instead she dared a glance in his direction before deeming her pencil to be acceptable. "Is the... reverse harm that obvious?" 

"Don't insult me." 

Perhaps it was the hurt which seared inside because of the way they had gone from kissing passionately to him being a jerk, but she asked (rather flatly); "Insult you as in lumping you in with the general population... or belittling you intelligence?" 

His hand flashed out. For a moment she thought, with a great deal of horror, he would hit her, yet he only pinching her arm. It was mild for Hibari but it still hurt far too much for him not to have gone for a sensitive spot in purpose. 

"Ow!" She yelped, balling her fists into her lap to prevent herself from angering him by swatting his hand away. But she ploughed on nonetheless: "To be honest, I couldn't choose even if I wanted to. Which I don't, as a matter of fact. I find it unfair to you and them to suddenly drop most when I'm equally attached to all, no matter what you might think." For a moment, her mind raced as she tried to come up with a convincing argument. "It's like a reverse lion pride." 

Something scoffing in nature made his upper lip curl. "At the very most, you'd be an omnivore. Don't delude yourself with comparisons to carnivores." 

She stared at him, not quite into his eyes, yet the rousing energy inside was spurring her on. "You know that I just singlehandedly dented a a metal leg, right?" 

His face didn't even twitch, eyes like razors. "Real predators do something productive with their power instead of trying to deny or suppress it." 

Then he left to continue in with his work, leaving her at her desk with acids burning in her throat, energy pumping and a sense of gloom clawing inside. She wished this were unusual behavior from him. She wished she didn't like him or felt attracted to him whilst at the same time being afraid of him. There were many things she wished for. 

Swallowing harshly, she opened her book again and started analyzing anything which could be argued to be sociopolitical, pen scribbling with harsh lines and a grip which was far too hot and tight. (There would forvever be discolored spots marring it, no matter how much she tried t suppress the Flames.)

It wasn't until an hour later, when she'd packed everything and was about to leave the room, that she turned to him and spoke up: "It's not about needing to be in a group. I asked if you _wanted_ to."

* * *

The background music snaking through Cafe Kiki had an amplified base sound. Haru had said the song was called Egyptian Ella and Tsuna trusted her on that, although she was unable to understand the words since the low buzz of the other people in the dimly lit vintage bar-cafe distorted the words. The group -consisting of Tsuna, Haru, Gokudera and Ryouhei- had pushed together two tables in order to fit everybody around. Tsuna and Ryouhei had nestled themselves into the cheap red couch pushed against the wall while the other two had claimed a chair each. As always, Kyouko and Hana had declined the extended invitation. Yamamoto was waiting for Chrome at the subway station since everybody had agreed it was not a good idea to let a cute, fragile girl walk toward the bar all alone at such a late hour. (As always, there were no identity checks: it was in the more shadowed, yet neon part of Tokyo.)

"Bless weekends," Haru sighed blissfully, slumping further into her chair with an arm casually thrown over its back. "And bless drinkies." 

"It's still Friday," Gokudera pointed out with a amicable smirk hidden in the corner of his eye. "And-" 

"Shh, that's details," she grinned faintly, then pursed her lips. "Actually, bless this world. It's beautiful, you know, despite all its flaws. _Because_  of all its flaws. If they weren't there, we'd never know what gems we have around us." 

"Philosophical," Ryouhei hummed. "Or extremely deep." 

"Yeah," Haru agreed sagely though it was unclear to which one, poking her empty beer glass which matched the ones of the smoker and boxer of the group. Tsuna didn't need to drink: she'd always been sensitive and while being around drunk people was either funny or disconcerting, being with buzzed people rendered her feeling pleasantly light inside as well. (She _had_ gotten drunk, once, after Hana had conjured a rosé wine which was surprisingly drinkable and most others had forgotten it existed after it was left next to the young Sawada.)

"I'd say both," Gokudera theorized after a moment. "Something deep can also be philosophical or have roots there."

"Or the reverse," Tsuna spoke up, "something philosophical is usually also deep. Or has a deep quote somewhere, like that Buddhist one, _if you see a beautiful flower, don't pick it, let it live_. Or something." 

Ryouhei shook his head: "Now I'm lost." 

Gokudera snorted in that typical way of his. His expression was reluctantly fond. 

"Hey, guys!" Haru suddenly sat up straight, the arm previously bent over the back of her seat suddenly waving with newfound energy. Yamamoto and Chrome had appeared in the doorway, the warm wood door shutting out the harsh gray and blue lines from outside when it swung shut with a gentle click. 

With Yamamoto smiling genially and waving back, the duo made their way toward them through the cafe. They weren't the only ones there: as always, it was almost full yet far from crowded, the floor the same warm wood as the door but worn and uneven from years of scraping chairs and tables across it, the windows frosted to blur out the shifty outside world and the framing curtains the same rich red as the couches and small, plastic vases occupied by small plants which struggled to bloom. Most people there were older teenagers or in their early twenties, gathered around their own tables in groups of friends, some sleepy after a long weeks and others (usually the ones with shot glasses scattered around their table) suddenly bursting out with rambunctious laughter. 

"I'm gonna order at the bar," Haru decided, standing up straight while the new duo stole two chairs from one of the few empty tables left, seating themselves between Tsuna and Gokudera. "Who wants anything?" 

"Nah, I'll stay sober," Yamamoto declined as always. Usually he held himself to it, but it wasn't uncommon for him to have eventually ordered something by the end of the night or that he'd simply finished Ryouhei's beer since the white-haired young man rarely drank much. 

While Chrome shook her head, Gokudera and Ryouhei both requested another Kirin Lager each, and Haru bounded off towards the old-style bar with the local legend of a bartender. Tsuna wondered if she'd been drinking coffee before going out as well, what with all that energy. She smiled at the sight of an enthusiastic Haru ordering from old man who, with his characteristic steady movements, complied while making casual conversation. 

"How's Shinjuku Middle?" Ryouhei asked Chrome. She was the only one who hadn't gone to the same schools as the others. 

Her single violet eye flashed in his direction before averting back to her pale hands: "It's fine." Then she dared a shy smile: "our music teacher is going through a Beatles phase again. I think he's frustrated that our language classes at school don't teach us to sing in English." 

Gokudera raised an eyebrow: "Last month he was going through a Kpop phase and wanted everybody to learn Korean." 

Yamamoto laughed: "It's good to like music." 

"Um," Chrome started, taken aback at the ease of conversation, "I suppose. Though I wish he wouldn't force his opinions on his students..." 

"But do you like his classes?" Tsuna asked, "I mean, do you like music at school?" 

"Yes," she answered with surprising certainty before pausing. "At least, when we actually make music. And sensei can be rather funny, actually." 

Chrome smiled softly but her single eye was fastened onto the far corner of the table. The other was, as always, covered by a white eyepatch which in turn was partially obscured by her side-swept fringe. It was also one of those rare times when she was out of her black-green school uniform, as she usually came directly from Shinjuku Middle to their biweekly meetings without changing. Her outfit was casually stylish, with a red skirt, white knee socks, a white shirt with a red scarf and a jacket as black as her new shoes. (Tsuna wondered where she got money from since she'd run away from her parents and started living under a new name- and how exactly had she managed to pull _that_ off?)

Haru returned with three beers, placing them in the middle of the two tables before falling back into her chair. "It's on me, I haven't payed anything the last, like, three weeks." 

"No objections," Gokudera agreed, taking a generous gulp from his own pint and ending up with a moustache of white foam which he wiped off on the back of his sleeve. 

Half an hour later -with a last beer for the silverette rebel and a questionable liquid for Haru- the atmosphere had relaxed further and while most was quick to grin and smile, their table was on the sleepy side. Chrome's shoulders had started relaxing, for once not looking so sharply defined they'd cut through glass, while Yamamoto was humming along to an old jazz tune produced by the speakers and Ryouhei was telling an absently interested Gokudera about what sort of punch was most effective.

Haru was smiling with drooping eyes and suddenly, Tsuna blurted up in a tune clashing with the amicable drowsiness which had fallen over them: "We should try to do something with the Flames. Something productive. Trying to understand them from a distance clearly isn't working, so why not try to experiment with them instead of only rarely even letting a spark come from our fingertips for a camera experiment?" 

"Hahi!" Haru sat up straight, blinking furiously and clearly trying to mentally slap herself awake and functioning again. It wasn't entirely successful, but the sheen over her eyes had lifted. "I- that sounds super or something and good, but, frankly... Okay, I think I'm a little buzzed," she admitted, Ryouhei's expression turning doubtful as he clearly classed her as tipsy. "Which means we'll have to have this conversation tomorrow morning when I wake up. So tomorrow at one, probably." 

"It's one AM now," Yamamoto supplied. 

"I agree with Tsuna-chan," Ryouhei announced with an uncharacteristic, almost levelheaded cool glinting in his eyes. "It's like in sports, if you have excess energy you do something with it. Maybe it'll even help us." 

"Actually," Gokudera spoke up with surprising hesitance, a flush from his beers hinting, "I'm not sure if it's a good idea. For starters, the timing isn't the best since it's both late and even those who haven't touched a single glass look fucked, but... we've seen what the Flames do, even a spark on beetles. It's not safe." 

It was the closest he'd ever come to outright rejecting something Sawada Setsuna had ever said.

"I just wish we knew more about it," Haru scowled, frustration clear and sudden across her rosy features. "Then I could come up with something. I wish there was anybody we could talk to..."

"There's my dad, but he's, um, a big no," Tsuna sighed dejectedly. Eyes flashed to hers, Haru managing the incredible feat of sobering a little.

"Wait, you know somebody who knows about the Flames? You've known for a while and never told us-" Haru was all incomprehension, cheeks suffused with more red- and this time not because of the alcohol.

Yamamoto asked, brows furrowed: "Why don't you just contact him?" 

Hibari flashed before her eyes, all contempt at her stammerings, and she was frigidly determined. Bile rose in her throat and there was steel in her veins. "No. Absolutely not." 

"Okay." It was inadvertently chorused by both Haru and Yamamoto. Ryouhei and Gokudera's attention also waned and Chrome's eye softened. 

Tsuna stared, taken aback and momentarily speechless. _That was all?_ "Why... are you accepting it so easily?"

"Usually you beat around the bush and never quite seem confident in your decision, or even have a decision, but now..." Haru shrugged. "If you're this certain, I trust you. I think I speak for all here." 

There was an unanimous murmur of agreement. 

Tsuna gnawed in her bottom lip. When she'd said it, it'd slipped out because of carelessness caused by drowsiness and comfort: she never once wanted to bring up her father in front of anyone, least of all those close to her. And now she had and all they'd done when hearing she could have an answer was shrug. That was trust. That was absolute friendship. It made her eyes almost glaze over.

"Thank you," she managed, glancing down at her hands. "Thank you." 

Ryouhei grinned, throwing an arm over her shoulder and allowing her to lean against him. "Don't mention it. There's clearly a good reason." 

She relaxed, breathing in the faint smell of washing powder, spices and a naturally dry, comforting smell she always associated to him.  

"We should play baseball together, some time," Yamamoto brought up the topic which he had managed not to bring up the last month. 

"As if," Gokudera snorted, throwing his head back to empty his glass. 

"It could be fun," Chrome piped up softly. 

"Later, maybe," Haru tried to postpone the game since she wasn't fond of team sports, "we don't have time now, but maybe during summer, sometime, if..." 

"Yes! We can have a whole tournament during summer!" Ryouhei exclaimed with a blinding grin, Tsuna twitching with surprise at the volume since she'd leaned her head against his shoulder. "Or have new teams every week! And we could invite the others from our classes, or at least Kyouko-chan and Hana-chan, and-" 

And just like that, they'd moved on to the next topic. Love surged through her. This was home. 

"I think it's a great idea," she admitted, "all of us together with Kyouko-chan and Hana-chan. I can ask Hibari-san if we could use the sports field for a day or two once the summer holiday starts."

Haru didn't managed to stifle her groan. 

It was Chrome who'd end up dropping the second bombshell. 

Another hour had passed and the tone was light with swaths of both laughter and drowsy blinks, and the song curling through the air had something erotic about it in the way it was composed, what with the melody, baseline and deep yet feminine voice. They were on their way out back into the harsh blue and gray reality, both Gokudera and Ryouhei preparing the motorcycles (Tsuna would be brought home by the former and Haru with the latter), while Yamamoto was in an animated conversation with the by then drunk Researcher. 

The sky was dark and overcast, the air chilly and a little moist. Though the narrow street they were in was almost empty, city life could be heard all around them: honking cars, the revving of engines, a distant beat of music, the buzz of uncountable chattering voices, a shrill laugh, a slamming door, shuffling steps and confident saunters with shoes meeting the ground, whooping in the distance and a faint moan from a dark alleyway where a window to a bedroom was open. 

Chrome and Tsuna lagged behind, the brunette once again starting to wonder about her younger friend. How and why and everything. She also wondered, a tad self-conscious, if Chrome and the others had started thinking too much about her own messed up family wherein the father was a question mark, the mother almost two-dimensional in her bullheaded nativity and her siblings adopted and with a past never mentioned. 

"Did you have a nice evening?" Tsuna asked Chrome, smiling in a way which invited people to lift a burden from their shoulders. 

"Ah, yes," she murmured, "it felt so-" she searched for words, gaze upon the cold purple neon lights over a hazy bar apparently named _Shisha Chacha._ "Easy. No, that's not the word, but..."

The petite girl shrugged, pale hand shoved deep into her pockets. Tsuna didn't doubt her runaway friend told the truth, yet the memory of Chrome averting her eye more than usual during the eve and night was seared into her mind. 

"And at school? You can always tell me anything," Tsuna reminded gently, resting a comforting hand upon the violette's shoulder. The single eye flickered up and in that split-second, it stood too wide and with too many words. 

Chrome stopped walking, Tsuna remaining by her side. The rest of the group was left on a distance allowing them some degree of privacy when it came to not being accidentally overheard. 

Tsuna lowered her voice, eyes soft. "What happened?" 

It took a few moments before an almost inaudible answer filled the air between them: "There was a man." 

Tsuna waited for more but when there was no continuation, she inquired: "What did he do? Was it in the bus, did he touch you? Or was it... a weird encounter which sits all wrong with you?" 

"I..." Chrome started, and then suddenly a dam broke, her timid face broke into one of twitching brows and an erratically moving mouth, words tumbling out in a sharp, hushed river which chased away the lingering warmth of Cafe Kiki. "I've met him before, long ago, and I can't explain but..." a deep breath, "he has the same Flames as I do, but he's mastered them and knows everything we don't. He makes people see that which does not exist, he can make them scream without batting an eye- I should've died, but I didn't, instead he made the truck driver veer away. The driver died and I survived and I never knew until he showed it to me-" 

"Died?" Tsuna was disturbed, apprehensive and confused. "Why would-" 

Another verbal avalanche. "When I lived with my parents and had just met you- I mean, when I had to go the toilet and the only thing open was that club you happened to be at since Haru-san had dragged you with her. We met in the toilets. The bully from my old school was there and he scared me and then the mirror... and he screamed. On my way home I crossed a street without looking and I should've died, I should have, but instead all I got was grit in my eye when the truck suddenly veered to the side and crashed- it was him. _He_ made the driver turn so suddenly even though he was at the other end of the street. And he's back. I- I _saw_ him staring at me yesterday while I was in class on the top floor and he appeared at the gates. And when nobody else saw him, I did- it was at the station and it was crowded and nobody saw him or bumped into him, he just stood there and stared right at me. A-and this morning he waved at me with that smirk and his voice was in my head, saying our connection was because he'd intervened with fate because I was meant to have died then, with that truck, but he'd saved me and- and then he was gone but he's still around, I know it. He hasn't actually left and I just... can't."

Despite the jumbled explanation, Tsuna was starting to puzzle together a disconcerting image. She didn't ask for a clarifying second attempt at the story: it was a miracle the closed-off girl had told her everything so readily to begin with. "Do you think he'd hurt you? Do you know what he wants- is there any way I can help?" 

"I think..." Chrome paused, glancing up with that single wide violet eye which was far too shy and intense at the same time. Tsuna felt the hairs on the neck tingle before the younger girl had even said anything: "I think he's here for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure what happened in this chapter. But I'll pretend I do. At least I covered what I'd intended to...
> 
> And Haru has some bad habits. Not a side of her which was easy to add, but I do think that it shows she's not all smiles and studies. Everybody has weaknesses and while Tsuna's is her obsession with being normal, Haru has that letting-too-loose tendency which comes out at times. 
> 
> And we're starting to flesh out Tsuna's relationships with her to-be-Guardians! I'm still learning how to write anything remotely romantic, but hopefully it's fine^^


End file.
